
0 0 


^ *o.»° <?> *•»’• A 0 >, *-— ** 

si — o^ j> *» VL' 


*■ 


j»v 


^ :■ 


% % <& V, 



* <A ^rw 
* ^ * 




o • * 


** ,** ^ 


.cr »»?•♦ 


*- ^A< 


«,(.^ * 




° ^ ^ 
r < 


^ ~o ♦ 


^ ^ •' 


V » ’ V* 


• • 


* * O j 


• ^$* * 
r V* v - « 


. P* 


4 <& ^ *• 


c$* ft -’ 

^ * 

% -TSfr* a ^ m *. 

0*8. 'in '• 4 ^ i / f av o*j "^/<" 

. O . j* ,g^. + . c° •'Uml*. C o 


v *V .-j? 

; 'Vv' 


<A "O.'l* *6 


.* ♦♦ ^ 


. b V 

; j 0 v , *. 

k /\ ^ ^ 

B <# b, ,•$*" 

O' .LV'^ •> v' 

k .*£gfe*. v ♦♦ • ’ 

- ' • * ^ 5 * ll “ 5 ^ - V\ v 


P H 0 


*„ 


* <V^ 


*0 • * * <0 


« 

v* Cr 


o 

* V^'V* I 

■* <L V ti* 'v ^ 

. 4 ° 'jfi <* '••* 

.4* V 


.0' o ° * ° ♦ *© , i * » ^ 


o -^5 ^ 

> v jy o 

‘“•o 0 y % 

V *V°' C* *0 

* „ a tv V 


•w 


A ■C. 

1 »• VL'* *> 


; 

.. Sio\f ( 


,* vp 0 ; 


..** A 


* V ^ ° 


O • » 


: 

* 4 y V C^ • 

4 rV ^ - 


A V *V 


in *>► A 


r oK 


<y 


V ^ * 


>o 


♦ , xvv ^_ 

A* * ^KsCs- 3 ^ • 

v ^ " v A v «#> *o«.e° 

0 » S '* \> p 8 • O^ .J.0^ % * • * f i 

■ ♦- *» •>«*•• \/ ;' 9 Kv «. .,» 

w - '■' mlM : /% VM?.- J.*v 


0*1 


• • 


<\, • t * 

t * * „ 


v* 0 ^ 

>0 £ O* 


V • 

- - 

o ^ ^ rr , • ’* ^ o ° *^*+•*0 



* >> ^ 
VnQ^ 


* ^ 0 - 
41 I" 


>' “\ 




. S 


♦ ♦ 


*v 


V 



4* 


• * 1 



*•»*• A° W 4 'r-«° ^ 

«:» V a* .*. 

^ «r • « 

* y 


aV ^ 

AT *L^Lf* *> 
V’ .VfijfcV. ^ 


o 

x 

o 


aV**. 

? 4 * ^ ^ ° 
r^ <* 

Or • > * * 




■: ^ °- 
/ / (Tv, * 

* < • o* ^C 

. ^ A* »>Va° ^ ^ 

r V< v * iwolr y//k ° 

• A W - 

* &? • 

♦ .o* V vttT* a <* 

** 0 * c 0"0 *^0 A • *■ 1 B + "<£*. 

° 6 - * °0 ^ %r 


Or :%s 
X o *o^ 

■ ' . / - ^ 

■<> ■••■•° A r 



r ^ ^ * 7 ^t* "o 

, T »M ’ f ° 0 - ## * ^ %> * 

O \ 0 V * S !nL'* A> V ► * • a* 

♦ f>JPl • av » jAr0 A.° ^ 




* «$> A v < 

: v\ v 
* ** 

* A W* “ ■* 

* G? ' J C> • 

* .$y ?«i* - 





: r 

V ^° ^ 

■ % * •■ ' •’ f°° \ %; y* 

'. \ a° .:^ 4 W ^ «, v u *. a- vr«%- .#. 

* A 




* 
© 



£A V . t ' • , '\, 


O • k 


& 

V{* -*► ,'W/C>^*sr ^ 

v> f^vl* A -v 

O' c, “JL 0 ♦. o, ■£ t’ l y^Z-. 

■^b > ..^ 



0 • 


% «5 




V- w J> . 

^ ; W v * 


:. V a - .' 

ho . > 




.wjs? > ^ ^ W 

v y % * 

V' |» ’ • o* c* 

Aw 

* - 4 ? vj ^, * 

4 < 2 . V ci* - 1 


, V ' » * *<$> 

^ ?£{$&+ % « ' 



4 o 
% *c> 



0^ o °JL® **c> 


> A * » • *0’ ^ 

/v '° ^ tW^caSa* ^ -awa*. <a .q> *fSms‘: 

'S' 



, . . . % , «* f 4 

■ ’ W <*. '•>•>* / 

A .1^. V C° .' 

>K. A “Pt. rS o'. 



1 













































.. 




.. 




































# 






» 


* 

















> 
















•• 


V 


_ • m 

i\ 



















« 



« 


* 



* 

•• 




* 

i- 
















Si 











V»\V‘ if i 

OR PS O' 






: » C.I I n 


/ aRMY®- 


/O .. , „ J vp« a. 


























■*» •? 














THE 


Evolution of a Life 


FROM THE 

BONDAGE OF SUPERSTITION TO THE 
FREEDOM OF REASON. 


BY 

REV. HENRY TRURO BRAY, M.A., LL.D., 

»* 

AUTHOK OF GOD AND MAN,” 

AND FORMERLY A PRIEST OF THE PROTE8TANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 


CHICAGO: 

HOLT PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
1890. 


J)Y>Z175 
. ,5k? 

o-ttipy £ 


Copyright, 1890, 

By Henry Truro Bray. 

Transfer 

Engineers School libjfc 
June 29, 193i 



In the name of the Universal Father , is this book 
dedicated to the struggling hearts and minds of the great 
world \ by their brother , 


THE AUTHOR. 













































* 










. 





' 











CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

Birth-place and family. School-life. Death of Willie. Failure of 
father’s health. Leave for the United States. Parting from father. 
His blessing. His death. His character. At work in the new 
land. Send for Richard. Send for mother and Joe. At home. At 
school. Private study. At university. Death* of a dear friend. 
Religious zeal. Sanctification. The act of a “ Bib.” The “Bibs” 
as a class. Queer mode of praying. Meetings for holiness. Re- 
ligious experience. A Methodist revivalist. A Roman Catholic 
sermon. Vacation. Offered a position. Vacation study. At Aris- 
topolis University. Religious experience. “Sloping.” First tem- 
perance work. An attempted shower-bath. Brother Joe. Vacation. 
At university again. A pleasurable evening. Religious experience. 
Peculiar dreams. Honest doubt. On religious feelings. A visit 
in sleep to heaven and hell. Wrestling With the devil. The Judg- 
ment-day. Vacation. Study the Hebrew language. First sermon. 
A sad letter. His eyes being opened, he leaves the pulpit. Affliction 
and sorrow. Meeting with an “ infidel.” At college again. Ex- 
pectations lessen, as the time for action approaches. The valley of 
indecision. A poem. Meeting with Agnes Lewarne. Loved 
and in love 1-28 


CHAPTER II. 

Receive the degree of B. A. Marriage with Sunshine. The depths of 
our joys. Aggie leaves her native land. Reflections. The rolling 
river, and its buried secrets. Our honey-moon. A disheartened 
preacher. Outwardly a saint, inwardly an atheist. A quarterly- 
meeting. Father Sanctity. The prayer of a hypocrite. Growth of 
doubt. Theology and theologians. Study divinity. A painful part- 
ing. The shears of the Hebrew professor. Theology as modified 
by climate and education. Once more with Aggie. Sights of 
poverty. Doves in a cot. Euphronia. A walk for pleasure. The 
striking experience of Mr. Pascoe. A cool criticism. The story of 
the Sunday-School superintendent. Examinations in Systematic 
Theology. Nature’s bond of sympathy. The bliss of love. A 
frequent walk. Social gatherings. Amorous maples, and whisper- 
ing breezes. Visit Metropolis. Sad reflections. The unanswered 
question. Preach before the school. Commencement-day. Receive 
the degree of B. D. Leave Euphronia. Religious experience. Ex- 
pectations not realized. Some silent questions. The theologian 


v 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


and the philosopher. A quotation from Aristotle. Death of Mr. 
Hamilton. Aggie’s grief. The prize I possessed. Gradual changes. 
An address to the soul. Restlessness. What the churches seek. 
No more death. Trust in God. Our love for each other. A 
poem 2 9"55 


CHAPTER III. 

Seeking a settlement. Leave for work. A sun-rise on the prairie. The 
elder’s promise. A novel sight. Searching for a resting-place. A 
night of horror. Strength in Aggie’s presence. Set out for Little- 
ville. Sunshine. Tired feet. Crossing the “Jordan,” with Sun- 
shine in my arms. The kiss of love. Selfseeker. “ Paleasa ghost.” 
An enjoyable meal. Job’s comforter. Wild Bill. Forgot to pay 
his debts. A load of squash. Ministerial marks. First day’s 
work. A frightful journey. Wild with fear. Drenched to the skin. 
The wife who was “ a rum one.” Life in Aggie’s presence. Mr. 
Soulless. Mr. Muchtalk’s experience. The promise of elders. A 
wonderful preserve. Discordant singing. Aggie’s happiness. An 
audience of tobacco-chewers. Attacked by wolves. Over the dark 
prairie. The pound of flesh was his. Searching for a more suitable 
place. Meeting the Episcopal bishop of the state of Jefferson. 
Moth and Mazar. Job’s comforter. A sample of the whole. A 
pastoral visit. Could not indulge. Mr. Smalleyes’ history of the 
preachers. Mrs. Woundedheart. Backbiting. The words of Aurel- 
ius. Aggie suspicious. Talk with Mr. Smalleyes. Visit Mr. 
Longshanks. Offends Mr. Headstrong. Describes the Smalleyes 
family. Tries to “fix” Fraudulent. The text which would stand 
the test. The effect of preaching. The humble dwelling. A love 
poem — 56-104 


CHAPTER IV. 

The parsonage. Hopes not realized. Professors and non-professors. 
Vitiating principles. Test of righteousness. Complaints of Square- 
man. Beats Tom Pepper. Kiss of a Judas. A rascal. Headstrong 
condemned. “As surly as a dog.” Mrs. Squareman accused of 
lying. Discouraging thoughts. Meekface. Sarcasm. Everybody 
sees with his own eyes. Speaking evil for another’s good. A saint 
one day, and a devil the next. A one sided genius. Popelover. My 
predecessors. Work and faith. Divine forgiveness. Headstrong 
offended. The “ rheumatics.” The whims of a woman. Sin of 
insurance. Sin of Israel. Vieing with Providence. Fraudulent 
greatly offended. No hope for a revival. Character of Headstrong. 
Truthseeker, and Workandpray. Mrs. Fencestridler. The children 
of the world compared to those of the churches. My strength in 
Sunshine. Words and looks. “Let me die with my head on your 
breast.” Thoughts on death. Our favorite songs. About a re- 
vival. The Baptists. Mr. Loveright on revivals. Headstrong’s 
spite. A disgraceful scene. Services in the parsonage. Snood- 


CONTENTS. 


vii 


winkle. Repentance. The call to preach. Aggie surprised. Visit 
the revival meeting. Some cool replies. A picture of hell. God- 
saveall aroused. Casting out the devil. Results. Welcome visitors. 
Loveright on the stewards. Suspected of murder. Fraudulent sells 
some wheat. A prayer-meeting. Snake in the grass. Making 
mincemeat. Bribing the elder. The quarterly conference. Leave 
the Methodist Church. Salvation by faith. Fixed state after death. 
The Judgment-day. Karma. Resolve to enter the Episcopal ministry. 
Requirements for the priesthood. An acceptable present. The 
valentine. A love-poem 105-147 


CHAPTER V, 

Aggie becomes a mother. Unkindness of the stewards. The song we 
loved. A terrible storm. Illness of Aggie. Remove from the par- 
sonage. A bad omen. Aggie is worse. Vain hopes. Tell-tale 
tears. The spirit of her grandfather. Asks to rest, and dies. My 
sun gone down. Unreciprocated kisses. Torture of separation. A 
broken heart. From death to life. A lump of clay. A lonely and 
mournful journey. Laid to rest. Hopes of re-union. A poem. 
The baby with its grandmother. Examined for priest’s orders. A 
question in dogmatic theology. The bishop stands corrected. Con- 
firmation. Death of little Henry Truro. Grief mixed with comfort. 
My great loss. Troublesome questions. A foretaste of hell. 
Costly redemption. On supernatural interference. Love that never 
dies. Learning to suffer. Lines on the death of Henry Truro. 

148-164 


CHAPTER VI. 

Ordained to the diaconate. Visit old friends. “ Will have their last 
dime.” Visit the state of Adams. Welcomed by the bishop. Leave 
for the state of Calhoun. Character of the church. A woman’s confes- 
sion. Forbidden fruit. The pride of a true man. Sickness. Vaca- 
tion. Mabel Summy. Aggie’s saying. Marriage. Visit mother. 
Continued illness. At the command of the people. True bravery. 
Priests’ prayers. An offended bishop. Resignation. Grief of 
parishioners. Leave for the state of Adams. Visit my sisters. Ac- 
cept of work. Character of Rockton. A troubled priest. Doubt- 
ing ministers. A suspected bishop. Mabel’s transforming power. 
Character of my sermons. Letters dimissory and commendatory. 
Love for the Episcopal Church. On the divinity of Christ. The 
sophistry of priests. ♦ “I believe.” Universal doubt. Unfounded 
dogmas. Shattered to pieces. Concealing doubt. Kicking against 
the pricks. Preaching from custom. Priestly hypocrisy. Paralyz- 
ing mind and conscience. Augustine. Predestination. Belief and 
truth. Need of preachers. Reason in the pulpit. Can not stand 
investigation — 165-188 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


CHAPTER VII. 

Ordained to the priesthood. An earnest heart. A question. Mental 
changes. Highest obligation. Duty. True temple. Painful 
thought. Temple of reason. Resignation. Accept a rectorship. 
On going in debt. Divided membership. The horns of a dilemma. 
Interested visitors. “Her reputation is not the best.” Church 
members in general. Parish collisions. One source of quiet and 
hope. A pure spirit. Becomes a mother. A holy sight. An awful 
silence. Assurance. Balak and Balaam. The heavenly adversary. 
Rome and Carthage, Heathens. France and England. The pa- 
pacy and the martyrs. A faithful mother. A dying son. An 
earnest prayer. A happy gathering. Death. All things well. 
The thorn in the flesh. Selfish prayers. Fatal perverseness. Job. 
Moses. Gethsemene. The bitter cup. Unanswered prayers. How 
to pray. A troubled mind. A rational disbelief. Prof. Cornhill. 
Origin and age of the Pentateuch The ten commandments. 
Broadening views. Fairy-tales. Difficulties. Bending to suit their 
desires. Warring dogmas, and conquering science. On miracles. 
A vision. Kills the monsters. A suspected woman. Her dignified 
answer. Resignation. Prairietown. A dishonorable priest. “The 
little fishes.” A dishonest minister. Questions by a parishioner. 
The gospels examined. Leaves surprised. In a tempest. Affirm- 
ing and proving. Sons of God. On Christ’s divinity. A prayer. 
The character of the Scriptures. Childish and false notions. Its 
conceptions of God. Literal inspiration. A protesting bride. The 
act of a bishop. A surprised physician. Threatened with tar and 
feathers. Hates the female sex. T wo good subjects. An inferior 
manhood. “ Thus saith the church.” Raving priests. A deep con- 
tempt. Priestly atheists. The certainty of ignorance. Sending to 
hades. Where to find a person ‘ ‘ possessed.” U niversal logomachy. 
A warning - - - - 189-231 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A visit from Reason. Questions and grievances. No room for prevar- 
ication. On literal inspiration. How ministers deceive. Moses. 
A national god. The ten commandments. The Pentateuch. 
Jahve. On the character of the Bible. Ashamed and offended. 
On miracles. Why the bible is holy. Priestly jealousy. Consci- 
entious scruples. Taking the name of God in vain. The god of 
the Israelites. Anthropomorphism. A dangerous practice. Long- 
ing for a purer theology. The enemies of truth. Only a staging. 
The loneliness of the great and good. Dishonest translators. 
Parting advice. Resolution. A transporting sight. Rest in Ma- 
bel. Mental troubles. On missions. The fatherhood of God. 
Cares alike for all. Mabel’s belief. A pure life the best theology. 
The chains of dogmas. Reasons for thankfulness. Thoughts of 
studying law. An insincere body of men. Unreasonable dogmas. 
Ministerial accomplishments. Simple theism. Doubtful principles. 
Orthodoxy. On prayer. An irrepressible strife. True life. Res- 


CONTENTS. 


ix 


ignation. Utilitarianism. Should seek conformity to Nature. The 
end of life. A costly fortune. How one should die. Self-love 
that is self-destruction. What men labor for. Mistaken judgments. 
The parental laboratory. Instruments of death. Temperance in 
all things. 232-256. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A country retreat. A letter from Bishop Wundergross. A visit from 
Mr. Judex. The clergy and unbelief. An insincere body of men. 
Believes every priest a knave at heart. A stupendous cause founded 
on shadowy evidence. The dogmas of the church ; the miracles of 
the New Testament. Belief in general. Miracles susceptible of 
ready explanation. Divine conceptions. Is not sure that Christ 
ever lived. Christ and Buddha. The similar stories about them. 
A perfect parallel. No man of common-sense believes them. The 
weakness of the one account, is the weakness of the other. Rejected 
by science. A central part of human nature. Mr. Judex doesn’t 
attend church. Made visible by his works. The question of im- 
mortality. An inexpensive hope. A possible mistake. The spirit 
of the law. The benefit of a doubt. The cases not parallel. Not 
certain of their usefulness. Guiding aright. The priests, as re- 
puted guides, must be protected. Splitting hairs. Giving the poor 
brutes the benefit of a doubt. Buddha’s divinity. Converting Bud- 
dhists. Christ’s divinity. The common reply. An offence against 
the divine Majesty. Celsus. Heretics. Such unsatisfactory cre- 
dentials could not come from God. The Virgin Mary. The priest 
and the Sisters. Priests as a class. A mother surprised. “ But, 
then — .” Praying to a suppositious deity. Christ not God Al- 
mighty. Praying to Christ. The God to whom prayer should be 
addressed. Dying with a shout. Unfounded faith. The true test 
of divine sonship. Removing the mists. Attending a diocesan 
convention. He liked liquor. “ Take a drink.” Wedded, but not 
mated. A blasted life. The Rev. Z wouldn’t think so. A great 
temptation. Women in general. A sad story. Unlawful love. 
A great reward. A name for the baby. Irreverence in the chancel. 
“ Exeantsacerdotes!” Sweet-smelling smoke. Humility. 
257-289 


CHAPTER X. 

Acropolis. At study. The beauty of the law. A political animal. 
Ecclesiastical methods. Potential law. Deductive philosophy. 
Locke. The prop of theology. Disagreement of metaphysicians. 
Bacon. Innate ideas. First principles. The root of sympathy. 
Priestly power destructive of sympathy. Origin of active law. Ec- 
clesiastical judges. Great English jurists. The operation of the 
law. The enactment of law. George III. The duty of the legis- 
lature. The force of law. Selfishness. The penalty of law. Mala 
in se, and mala prohibita. Conscience. Society the judge. . Rea- 
son decides. The civilizing power of the law. The great stimulus 


X 


CONTENTS. 


to activity. Law and religion. The limits of religious belief. Re- 
ligious power destructive of liberty. Calvin. The Roman hier- 
archy. Religion naturally intolerant. The English Church. The 
Puritans. Ecclesiastics determining legislation. Their apparent lib- 
erality explained. Right and wrong. Law is all-mighty. Imped- 
ing mental development. The Duke of Somerset. What kills the 
nation, and what gives it life. The security of the law. The 
shortest road to infidelity. Ecclesiastics as criminals. Henry II. 
A letter to the bishop. Plato’s gospel. The peculiar claims of 
Christianity. A talk with Mabel. How preachers believe. Faith 
and happiness. Priestly hypocrites. The immaculate conception. 
Vicarious atonement. Eternal damnation. The saying of an able 
jurist. The God I worship. Reason the ultimate judge. Reflect- 
ing the light of God. Lamps to lighten the dark pathway of 
man 290-317. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Another victim. Rest in the wilderness. Painful separation. Search- 
ing for water. A little stranger. “ Proving up.” Self-recrimina- 
tion. Plato. Returning evil for evil. Dear to God. The injustice 
done the great ancients. The ancient and the modern philosopher. 
Lord Burleigh. The ancient and the modern scholar. Destructive 
and constructive philosophy. The broadening road to heaven. The 
object of God’s care. The object of human prayer and praise. One 
Form of many names. Moved by false hopes. The feeling of 
freedom. Bishops’ dictation. Consecrated ground. An example 
of priestly hypocrisy. “ Bless the Lord.” Without priestly rites. 
A solemn time. A heart-felt prayer 318-333. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Visit Mabel’s parents. Thanategus. Home again. Scorched by a 
burning sun. A mother’s comfort lost. What moves the mother. 
Greatly beloved. Mr. Pomposity. Such a face he had never seen. 
On miracles. Immaculate conceptions. Incarnations. The whale 
that swallowed Jonah. A trying position. Unacceptable dogmas. 
On speaking the truth. On salvation. On responsibility. Kreesh- 
na. The soul. Duty. Not subject to birth nor decay. I in them, 
and they in me. Arjoon. After death. Zoroaster. Mindful of 
all. Revelation in general. Weeds and flowers; wheat and insects. 
The universal in religion. Out-comes of different civilizations. The 
religious idea. The true and only God. Candor. Danger. The 
holy communion. “All very beautiful.” Contrary to reason. 
Blooming for another world. Among the tombs. Fragrant flowers. 
Favorites. The worthy. Rule of conduct. Trust. “ For your 
sake.” Do the dead know what the living do? An impassable gulf. 
The spirit’s flight. Frozen regions. The common idea. The 
fixed stars. Is it to find its God? Conjecture. My belief. The 
church as a teacher. Our duty. Lines from Goethe. The flower 
droops. Visits her parents. Diagnosis. “I want to die with 


CONTENTS. 


xi 


you.” As if wrapt in a winding sheet. Groundless hopes. Disa- 
greeing physicians. Bitten by untimely frosts. Dread of the 
grave. Love-letters. All is arranged. Going home. Read my 
last sermon to Mabel. Wise counsel. Losing my life, my 
all 334-36 o 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Das grab ist tief und stille. Desires the holy eucharist. On drinking 
his blood, and eating his flesh. Prepared to die. No fear of death. 
The hymns Mabel wished sung. Almost gone. Reading the 
burial chant. “Cut down, dried up, and withered.” A surprising 
letter. “ Have you any news?” Not dead, but living. The feast 
of Circumcision. Trying to catch the tones. Praying in vain. 
The billows of death. Like a wounded bird. No pain' Desires 
the bishop to perform her burial service. The vital spark going 
out. “ Put your head upon my breast.” “ Do you think I’m dy- 
ing?” Mabel gives her dying kiss. “Come nearer to me.” No 
more pain, nor sighing, nor old age. Mabel wishes to tell me 
something. A heart-breaking request. “Turn me on my side.” 
“ God shall comfort thee.” Mabel falls asleep. Dressed for the 
grave. The house of squalor. The burial service. The holy com- 
munion. What I wished to show forth. Painful scenes. Where 
she sleeps. Hidden from my view. A never-dying love. An empty 
nest. Vain expectations. Mocked by empty space. A prayer. A 
lonely grave - 361-379. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Private study. University examination. The diocesan convention. 
Celibates. Angels with hods. Marriage of priests. Eunuchs of 
different kinds. No room for monstrosities. A scattered and un- 
certain family. Crimes of celibates. Ecclesiastical immorality. 
Few exposed, many hidden. The kindness of the people. A 
Thanksgiving dinner. Rationalistic preaching. Visiting a sick 
man. Wishes no prayer. Believes that death ends all. A rational 
appeal. On Christ’s divinity. The object of humanity. Belief in 
Nature. The part of a mountebank. A letter which accomplished 
good. An evening’s conversation. On the deity of Christ. As to 
Christ’s infallibility. Claims which prove nothing. Theophanies. 
Nothing more evident. Gospel of Nicodemus. Celsus. Mary, 
Pandera. Something I do not like. As to Christ’s miracles. Mir- 
acles in general. An implication. A miracle to prove a miracle. 
A safe rule Humani est errare. New Testament miracles. The 
teachings of Christ. Nothing new. Born of woman, begotten of 
man. Doing the work he was sent to do. Virtue. Like beasts to 
the slaughter. Cause and effect. Typical forms. Truth. The 
sure guide. Virtue its own reward. Soul-life. Latent powers. 
Their own hells. The part to choose Desires new scenes. Re- 
signation. Action of the vestry. Letter from the bishop. An 
episcopal prayer - 380-399. 


CONTENTS. 


xii 


CHAPTER XV. 

Remove to Flumville. A resolution. Kindness of the people. A ra- 
tional faith. Attractive principles. A rare confirmation. Mutual 
enemies. A narrow soul. An honorable act. A proof of love. 
Foisting one’s self upon a people. A Roman missioner. Hireling 
gospellers. The “ Nag’s Head.” Grave-worms. Unreasonable- 
claims. The horns of a dilemma. Aid to infidelity. Popes. Re- 
ligiosi. The Houssa negro. A citizen of the United States. Meet 
food for cadaverous souls. Where the popes are found. Exchang- 
ing quarters. The Church of Rome. Where advancement is^ 
found. Priesthood. Blasphemous pretensions. Mistaking super- 
stition for truth. A normal movement. The Moriscoes. Swal- 
lowing a camel. Priests and medicine-men. “ Essay on Theism." 
The “brethren” in trouble. Episcopal paraphernalia. An inqui- 
sition. Fallacious arguments. A pain to me. Asking questions. 
Forbidden paths. Episcopal advice. Unacceptable to the reason- 
ing mind. A letter. Accusing scientists. Should intellectually 
restrain myself. Darwin. Spencer. Huxley. A “ Corporate An 
imal.” Many years away from his books. On the doctrines of 
the New Testament. The different bibles. Convinced of the 
truth. “ God and Man.” A flouishing parish. Bishop and priest. 
Torn hither and thither. The beauty of reason. Loathsome su- 
perstition. A loving people. My determination. Resignation. 
Action of the vestry. Last sermon. A full mind, and heavy heart. 
Painful thoughts. Baneful superstition. A tempest within. Alone, 
yet not alone. A parting prayer 400-419. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Mental distress. A visit from Reason. “Ye must be born again.* 
Under the heel of a powerful corporation. The duty of a true man. 
Must decide. Three clergymen. A confession. Serving two 
masters. On the Nicene Creed. Antagonistic parties. Origen. 
Arius, Athanasius. The child of force. Worse and worse. Still 
more unreasonable. Origin uncertain. The great schism. The 
“ filioque.” A result of long continued and bitter strife. An un- 
reasonable document. Detractors of one another. Discredited by 
one another. Magic and heresy. Imprisonment. The Inquisition. 
Galileo. A papal decree. Denied a monument. Unreliable judg- 
ment. Must break through the barriers. True to self. Distorting 
reason. Cut down with the scythes of bishops. A scorpion’s tail. 
Deeply pledged. The sovereign ecclesiastical powers. Sordid in- 
terests. My eyes are opened. Momentous consequences. Making 
a better bible than ours. A letter to the bishop. Statement of 
faith. A candid question, and a candid answer. Laying my burdens 
down. On a special creation for mankind. On the fall of man. On 
vicarious atonement. On eternal punishment, and a fixed state 
after death. On the Christian revelation. On the resurrection from 
the dead. On the deity of Christ. A statement of my faith. Un- 
able to recede. Compelled by reason. Demand deposition. A 
letter from the bishop. The official act. A new birth. My shackles 
are loosened. No more fear of the lolling and bloody tongue. A 
concluding prayer. A poem 420-436, 


The Evolution of a Life; 

OR, 

FROM THE BONDAGE OF SUPERSTITION TO THE 
FREEDOM OF REASON. 


CHAPTER I. 

EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 

My knowledge of my predecessors extends no further 
back than three generations. On my father’s side my great- 
grandfather’s name was Richard Bray, and his wife’s name 
was Catherine. I knew her as a very old lady living with a 
relative called Dexter, in Hightown, Cornwall, England. 
There she died in the year 1864, being about a hundred 
years of age. From this marriage were begotten Thomas, 
William, John and Richard. Thomas Bray, my grand- 
father, was born about 1788, and died at Desertville, 
Kenwyn parish, Cornwall, England, in 1829. His first 
wife’s name was Priscilla, who was the mother of my father, 
dying when he was yet an infant. 

My father, Richard Bray, was born February 15th, 1812, 
at Desertville, Kenwyn parish, Cornwall, England, and was 
raised chiefly by his grandmother. When twenty-one 
years of age, he married at Andropolis, Cornwall, England, 
Miss Lavinia Howe, eldest daughter of Mr. William Truro, 
of Flushing, Cornwall, England. 

My mother’s grandfather was a prince of Bengal, India. 
He is said to have been captured while bathing, and carried 
to England where he remained, taking up his residence at 
Andropolis. In due time this Bengalese, my great-grand- 
father, married a girl by the name of Catherine Richards. 


2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


My grandfather, William Truro, was born of this marriage. 
Of any other children I know nothing. 

The first wife of William Truro, my grandfather, was 
known as a girl by the name of Eliza Ann Eddy, daughter 
of a Rev. Eddy, of the Church of England, who was for 
many years well known as the rector of a church in Fair- 
ville, Cornwall, England. The only child of this marriage 
was my mother, Lavinia Howe, who was born February 
24th, 1812. The mother died while her only child was yet 
an infant. 

My mother’s father, William Truro, kept a large hotel, 
called the Seven Stars, at Flushing, Cornwall, England, 
where my mother was raised in comparative luxury and 
ease. 

Our family consisted of eleven children, of whom I was 
born near Andropolis, Cornwall, England, Wednesday, 
December 16th, 1846. At the time of my birth, there was 
almost a famine in England, and my dear parents, especially 
my father, felt severely the pressure of the prevailing dis- 
tress. Perhaps it was owing to this lack of abundance in 
our household, during my infantile life, that the wise- 
woman who attended my mother, could truthfully say to 
me, when about eight years old, “ Ah, my little darling, 
when you were born I could put you into a small pitcher.” 

The first school I attended was the parish school at 
Valleytown, a village about five miles distant from Andro- 
polis. In going to this school I had the companionship of 
my eldest brother Richard, who, however, was never much 
inclined to go to school. 

I next attended a private school kept by a lame young 
woman called Wilkinson, and situated about a mile from 
Valleytown. 

Whether attending school or not, my father was my con- 
stant teacher ; and it was largely through him that I could 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


3 


read the bible, in company with the other members of the 
family, before I was five years old. 

When about ten years of age I became a pupil at the 
grammar school of Mr. Bawden, kept at Hightown, Corn- 
wall, England. Here I made great proficiency in my general 
studies, and I was proud to be recognized as one of the 
best students in the school. In my studies I found constant 
delight which day by day increased, as my youthful mind 
expanded. Mr. Bawden's school was the last I attended in 
England. After leaving this school my time was divided 
between study and work ; for my father being in but very 
moderate circumstances, it was necessary and proper that I 
should assist in doing whatever my father had for me to do. 

In the year 1862, my dear father’s health began rapidly 
to fail. He appeared to have received his death-blow at 
the death of brother William Anthony, which occurred in 
1857. He was a lovely boy, my playmate and bedfellow. 
Mild in disposition, large and handsome, he was my father’s 
special delight ; and at his death, my father’s spirits sank, 
and rose no more to their former height. Often could he 
be heard saying : “ Father’s little man ! thou canst not 
come to me, but I can go to thee.” 

The death of my father, however, was greatly hastened 
by a terrible cold which he had caught, about two years 
before his death, from wading through the cold waters of 
an old mine, at the adit level, in search of a rich vein of 
lead ore said to be there. From this cold he never re- 
covered. 

Because of the growing weakness of my father, I was 
-obliged to work for a short time for another man. I was 
then about sixteen years of age, and while thus engaged, 
received as wages thirty-four shillings a month. This was 
good pay considering the purchasing value of the money. 
It was about one-half of a man’s wages. 


4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Every spare moment I used in studying, and among the 
boys of my age, I was thought a kind of wonder ; but to 
myself I was anything but a scholar. I felt within my soul 
a burning thirst, an insatiable craving, for higher knowledge, 
and broader information; and the fact that I saw no ready 
means of acquiring it, made me quite unhappy. 

June 30th, 1864, with the consent of my dear father, 
whose health was gradually getting worse, I determined to 
go to America and join my sister Kate, at Hilltown, Michi- 
gan, in the hope of doing more for him whom I loved with 
my whole soul. So great was my love for my father that, 
when absent from him in person, his ghost, or shadow, 
seemed to follow me. 

My father carried me in his own vehicle to the port of 
departure, a town called Hayle. 

When I parted from my father, he said: “ Father's little 
man! you will never see father again, my boy.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” I said. “ Do not act thus, father; I will 
be back again in a year or two, or have you with me.” 

“ My nightingale !” he replied, “thy father will be dead 
before Christmas; but when I am gone, remember mother 
and little Joe. May the God of Abraham bless thee, my 
little man. Farewell, my darling boy; farewell, my Thomas 
Henry.” 

From that time I never saw my father. Tommy Jory, 
my youthful companion, came with him to see me off; and 
I was glad that my father had his company, on his return 
home. This boy had a widowed mother. I have heard that 
afterwards he went to Australia, and that his body now lies 
beneath the Australian sands. 

We took the steamboat Queen for Swansea; from Swan- 
sea, the boat Sovereign for Liverpool; and from Liverpool, 
the boat Peruvian for Quebec. 

On my landing in the United States, I borrowed fifty 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


5 


dollars, and remitted it to my father. He acknowledged its 
receipt with as much surprise as delight; blessed me over 
and over ; and ended his letter with the words, “ father’s 
last.” It was his last letter to me. He died of consump- 
tion, October 21st, 1864, near Hightown, Cornwall, England; 
and his body lies in the churchyard of that town. 

His death nearly killed me. I was then nearly eighteen 
years old, but was so entirely bound up in my father, that I 
seemed as incapable to live without him, as the infant with- 
out its mother. He was a very religious man; most affec- 
tionate, wholly unselfish, most assiduous in looking after the 
welfare of his children, always imparting such instructions 
as he could, and never ceasing to point them to God. He 
brought us all up on our knees. He seems to me to have 
been such a soul as the Divine Spirit must delight to dwell 
in. I have always tried, and do try, to imitate him; but I 
never expect to see another such a father as was Richard 
Bray, the .father of him who pens these lines. May his 
blessed spirit enjoy forever such felicity as the Father hath 
in store for those who love Him. 

Having come to this country, I first obtained work in a 
mine about fifteen miles from Hilltown, Michigan, in the 
primeval forest. This mine having suspended operations at 
the end of the year, 1864, I obtained work the following 
January in another mine, about seven miles from Hilltown. 
Here I labored till the following June, when, having sent to 
England for my brother Richard, I went with him to work 
in a mine, about fifteen miles from Eudoxia, Michigan. In 
this mine I worked part of the time with Richard, but most 
of the time with others, till the autumn of 1866, when, the 
mine having suspended operations, we removed to a new 
mine, about eleven miles from Hilltown, and one mile from 
what were afterwards known as the most celebrated copper 


6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


mines in the state. Here I worked the winter of 1866, and 
spring of 1867. 

In April of this year I sent to England for my mother 
and Joe, whom, ever since the death of my father, I had 
gladly taken under my care, and well supported. They 
landed at Lithville, Michigan, June 10th, 1867, and for 
a short time stayed with my sister Kate, who was keep- 
ing a hotel there. They then came with me, and lived in 
what we called “ our home,” for where mother and Joe were, 
was always home to me. 

About this time I began working in a mine distant a half- 
mile from Hilltown, where I continued at work till the sum- 
mer of 1868. The following autumn and winter I worked 
in a mine about a half-mile further from the village. The 
summer of 1869 I was employed in the mines at Whiskey- 
ville, after which I returned home, and worked for a short 
time at the Hilltown mine. 

In the autumn I attended the Hilltown school, and stayed 
through the school year. The principal was a very clever 
man. His name was Sabine. 

During the preceding summer I had studied privately 
very hard. Without a teacher I had finished Harkness’ 
Arnold’s First Latin Book, which I had borrowed from a 
Miss Carrie Trezidder, about twenty exercises of Arnold’s 
Latin Prose Composition, and Harkness’ First Latin Reader. 
I was now more than ever on fire with the love of study, and 
determined to prepare for the university. 

During the summer of 1870 I worked in the mines near 
Whiskeyville, where I received good compensation for my 
labor, getting, on the average, about five dollars a day. 

Early in September, 1870, I left home for Ypsilanti, 
Michigan, with the view of making preparations to teach. I 
had been in that city only two or three days, when I discov- 
ered that the course of study at the Normal was too rigidly 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


7 


fixed to allow of any expeditious preparation for the univer- 
sity. I therefore left Ypsilanti, and returned home. 

I now applied myself more than ever to study ; and with 
a little assistance received from a Congregational minister of 
Hilltown, I finished, during the next four months, four books 
of Virgil’s Aeneid, and twenty exercises of Harkness’ First 
Greek Book. Being now twenty-four years of age, I knew 
that, if ever I was to get the education I longed for, no time 
was to be lost. 

Early in January, 1871, my dear youngest brother accom- 
panied me from Hilltown to Lithville, where I took the 
stage en route for Acropolis, Michigan. On board we had 
a woman smoker, which was a novel sight to me. She was 
not my ideal of the female sex ; for I could not think that 
the stem of a tobacco-pipe, or the more fashionable cigar- 
ette, could add to the beauty of woman’s lips, or sweeten her 
fragrant breath. A day after my departure, we arrived at 
Whiskeyville. Here I remained a day or two at the resi- 
dence of my sister Priscilla. I then took the cars for Bar- 
rentown ; and at that place, the stage again for Hudorville, 
Wisconsin ; whence the cars carried me to my destination. 

Remaining at a hotel over night, in the morning, while 
reading a newspaper, I saw an advertisement of a classical 
and mathematical school in Kalopolis, offering special facil- 
ities to young men preparing for the university. Believing 
this was the place I was searching for, I set out immediately 
for that town, where, on my arrival, I was kindly received, 
and admitted to the advanced classes ; and, while there, I 
received every possible help from the proprietor and the 
classical master. 

I obtained first-class board and lodging, and the kind 
attention of true and generous hearts, in the city of Kalop- 
olis ; and to-day the remembrance of that people is no less 
dear to me, than their city is admitted by all to be beautiful. 


8 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


By the June following I was thought by my teachers to 
be well prepared for the Acropolitan University ; and I 
therefore presented myself, at the June matriculation exam- 
inations, for admission to that school. I stood a very cred- 
itable examination, being conditioned only in Greek reading. 
In Greek composition I was said to be very proficient. 

I returned to Kalopolis to await the opening of the uni- 
versity the following September, and do some private read- 
ing. It was shortly after my return that I heard of the ex- 
cellent character of the university at Olympia. I accord- 
ingly made a visit to that city, determined, if possible, to 
become a student of that school. This was in August, 1871. 
I was delighted with the aspect of the building, the beauti- 
ful park, and the long, shady walks. I thought that the 
surroundings were all that could be desired by the stu- 
dent. On visiting the professors, however, I found that 
although I had read more classics than were required for 
matriculation in that school, they were not what were used 
there ; and that no substitution of one author for another, 
was allowed. I was sorry thus to be forced to give up all 
hope of entering the Olympian University ; but there was 
no alternative. 

While reading privately at Kalopolis through the month 
of July and the early part of August, I was informed by a 
friend, a Methodist minister, that the moral surroundings 
of the Lakeville University were very much superior to those 
of the University at Acropolis, where I was intending to 
enter ; and that as a school it was fully equal to the latter. 
“The school you speak of entering,” he said, “may be a 
good place for hatching infidels, but it is not one where a 
Christian mind can flourish.” 

Thinking of his words, and finding that I could not enter 
the Olympian University, I left Olympia for Megalopolis, 
journeying partly by water and partly by land, turning my 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


9 


back on the beautiful Olympia, with many regrets. Being 
about a month too early for the entrance examinations of 
the Lakeville University, I took board at a private house in 
Megalopolis, and applied myself to study. The middle of 
September I presented myself at the entrance examinations, 
passed all the requirements with ease, and was thereupon 
enrolled as a freshman of the Lakeville University, which 
the good Methodist minister, in Kalopolis, thought was the 
very garden of the Lord for the production of a very super- 
ior variety of Christian character. 

It was about Christmas of this year that I lost by death 
the dearest friend I had ever known outside of my own 
family. It was but a few days before his death, I received 
a letter from him, informing me of the great pain he fre- 
quently felt in his side. “ I can not stand this pain very 
long,” said he, “ but the Lord knows what is best. Be 
faithful, and God will open your way. I thank God that I 
am able to assist a young man so ambitious and worthy ; 
and I hope that you may be of great service to your fellow- 
men.” He seemed a father to me, and had assured me over 
and over that I should never want for whatever means might 
be necessary to complete the education I sought. He had 
been prompt in sending me whatever I had asked, and had 
always encouraged me to persevere. He died suddenly in 
his office, being found dead, sitting in his chair. Henceforth 
I could no longer look to this noble heart for assistance ; he, 
I verily believed, was with his God. Kind hearted and 
true, honorable and devout, may he reap his reward in a 
better world, where pain shall be no more. 

Being known as a student preparing for the ministry, I 
was given a room, free of rent, in a large building standing 
on the university grounds. In this way the cost at the uni- 
versity was somewhat reduced. 

I was most earnest in my Christian life, sometimes pass- 


IO 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


ing a long time at prayer. This was nothing strange, for 
my father had been a most religious man, under whose 
influence I was led, from my earliest remembrance, to pray 
to God as to a father near at hand, and to make my wants 
known to Him, believing He would grant me what I needed. 
It was after one of these laborious exercises, November 9th, 
1871, that I experienced what the Methodists call sanctifica- 
tion, which state of heart I professed for some two or three 
years afterwards. To show my religious life at this time, I 
will here extract from my journal of December 1 2th, 1871, the 
following : “ Glory be to thy name, dear Savior, for having 

taken me to be one of thy sheep. O Lamb of God ! may I 
never perish. May no one ever take me from thy dear 
hands ; but rule Thou in my soul every motive, every de- 
sire, every action. Thou shalt rule in my soul. I am thine, 
O my Father ! saved by the precious blood of Jesus.” 

On December 20th, I had finished the examinations for 
the first term with delight to myself, and full satisfaction to 
the professors. During the Christmas vacation I began and 
finished Demosthenes on the Crown. 

The university year passed without much worthy of 
notice. The two following occurrences might be mentioned 
as showing phases of college life : We were reading 
Antigone, and it was the professor’s custom to translate for 
the class to-day what he would assign them as a lesson 
to-morrow. I protested against this custom, holding that it 
was ruinous for the professor thus to do the scholar’s work. 
One morning at the recitation the professor hesitated in his 
translation, and finally told the class that, the passage being 
very obscure, he would excuse them for the day. In an 
instant I thoughtlessly replied : “ Why professor ? I am 

sure the passage is easy enough.” With one voice the class 
cried out : “ Read it, Bray. Get up, and read it.” The 

professor reddened, but said nothing. I felt deeply the 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


1 1 


impropriety of my conduct, and longed to apologize, which 
I determined to do on the following day ; but the next day 
the professor did not make his appearance, and I have always 
thought that it was because of his deep mortification. On 
the second morning after the occurrence of the unpleasant • 
ness, as soon as I had opportunity, I arose and apologized 
to the professor ; for well I knew that although what I said 
was true enough, my actions as a student were nevertheless 
very improper. The professor replied : “ I recognized the 

impropriety of your conduct, Mr. Bray, but I readily receive 
your apology. I also hope in the future you will be as well 
prepared in your studies, as you have been in the past.” 

At another time I was awakened out of sleep about mid- 
night by the most melodious strains of music, under the win- 
dow of the young man who occupied the room next to mine. 
I listened in rapt delight for a time, when I heard the 
splashing of water, and a female voice saying : “ Goodness, 

gracious ! That’s my new dress.” The singing ceased, and 
the singers departed thinking they had been poorly paid for 
their intended kindness. 

In the morning there was a very high feeling manifested 
among the boys at the occurrence, and a determination 
expressed to discover the student who had poured, from one 
of the dormitory windows, a bucket of dirty water upon the 
heedless heads of the unhappy serenaders None appeared 
so much offended as a young man who was the son of a 
Methodist preacher, and professed sanctification. In giv- 
ing his experience, he used to say that he wished to leave 
this wicked world to go and live with Jesus. In the course 
of a day or two, he was found to be the guilty party. He 
paid the young lady for a new dress ; but the dirty act 
added to the feeling already prevailing against the theolog- 
ical students, or the “bibs’’ as they were called. 

With the character of the “ bibs ” as a class, a person 


12 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


could not be very favorably impressed. Among them there 
were not a few whose very exterior would condemn them 
anywhere as worthless ; and taken as a body they certainly 
did not appear to possess anything that should elevate them 
in the eyes of the world, or make them “ chosen vessels,” as 
they professed to be. Some of them whose worthlessness 
could not be easily covered, sought to turn it to their own 
advantage, by saying that God chose the weaker things of 
this world to confound the mighty. 

It was the habit of the Greek professor to pray with his 
eyes wide open, whenever he led the devotional exercises in 
the chapel of this university. I believe he had a good and 
sufficient reason for keeping his eyes open at such times, as 
I was told that at one time, when praying with his eyes closed, 
his head came into collision with an old shoe which had 
been thrown with unerring aim by one of the mischievous 
boys. This professor was not a favorite in the school ; just 
why, I never learned. 

I was quite a regular attendant at the meetings for holi- 
ness, held at the residence of Mrs. Hamlin. Some very 
striking experiences were here related. At one of these 
meetings, held Saturday evening, March 23rd, a Miss Mitchel 
said : “ I see God face to face every day. He talks to me, 

and I talk to Him ; and our conversation is full of heavenly 
things.” 

Having lived and thought earnestly seventeen years 
since I heard these words fall from her lips, I would say that 
such words, if understood in a certain sense, may be proper 
enough, but that they border on irreverence, and smack far 
too much of equality between God and man. 

I see now the explanation of many such experiences. 
The university was a great place for matrimonial alliances ; 
and as there were many young men, either already preachers 
or soon to be, attending these meetings for holiness, it was 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


13 


but natural that young ladies should seek to attract their 
attention, and win their esteem ; nor is it to be doubted that 
such public profession of superior holiness, would appear a 
great attraction to those who were to be “watchmen in Zion.” 

In the month of April, Mrs. Maggie VanCott, the great 
revivalist, came to Lakeville. She labored hard to convert 
the young men ; but the only effect of her work, as far as I 
could see, was the conversion, or frightening, of a few 
young girls. She had a good eye to business, for she sold 
her photographs to the brethren ; and being a very hand- 
some woman, there was a ready market for them ; I bought 
one myself. 

It was near the end of the school year that I found, in the 
library, a catalogue of the University of Aristopolis, Canada. 
I was much pleased with the representation it gave of that 
school ; and, after corresponding with its authorities, I re- 
solved to attend there the following year. The chief cause 
of my dissatisfaction with the university at Lakeville, was 
the very changeful character of the climate, and the great 
prevalence of catarrh. 

June 16th was the last Sunday of the college year. The 
morning of this Sunday I spent at the Catholic church, 
where I heard a sermon on the wisdom and duty of giving 
largely to the priests of Catholicism for the purpose of 
spreading their most holy faith. I was much displeased 
with both service and sermon. 

I left Lakeville for Megalopolis, where I took the steam- 
boat, Cayuga, for Eudoxia, Michigan. I passed the vacation 
with my brother Richard, at Whiskeyville. It was during 
this vacation that I was offered a position in a school at 
Sideropolis, Michigan, at a salary of eleven hundred dollars 
per year. After fully considering the matter, I determined 
not to accept, since it would greatly delay the prosecution 
of my studies, if not change my whole purpose in life. 


14 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


During this vacation I read the second, third, and fourth 
books of Xenophon’s Memorabilia of Socrates, and Soph- 
ocles’ CEdipus Tyrannus. We had read the first book of 
the Memorabilia at school. 

The year I was at the Lakeville University, Dr. Sophistus 
was the president. He was a kind-hearted, wise, and good 
man. He has since paid the penalty of life. In his death 
the world lost a great educator ; and young men, a true 
friend. If after death friends may meet again, I hope to 
meet him. 

Early in September, 1872, I started for the university at 
Aristopolis, Canada. I arrived in due course, and soon 
after was admitted a student in the honor course. I chose, 
as my honor work, mathematics. 

I obtained board and room at the residence of a very 
pleasant, middle-aged lady, who I afterwards found, was 
willing at all times to do all in her power to oblige. My 
chum was an American gentleman of a pleasant disposition, 
but, sad to say, much addicted to drink. 

My religious spirit at this time can be seen from the fol- 
lowing, which I copy from my journal of October 23rd: 
“ The blood of Jesus ! How precious to know that it was 
shed forme! Blessed Savior! I give Thee glory and ador- 
ation ; and if I had a thousand tongues, yet would I employ 
them all for Thee.” 

TRIUMPHANT EASTER. 

BY HENRY TRURO BRAY. 

Easter, Easter, glorious Easter ! how I love thy glorious time ! 

Alleluia ! heaven’s echoes fill my soul with hope divine ; 

And the earth, her icy garments casting off, from nature’s bed, 

Brings with joy her new creation, leaping, bursting from the dead. 
Easter, Easter, heavenly Easter ! lays to thee divine I’ll sing, 

When thy Son, the Lamb of Cavalry, warms my wintry soul with spring; 
When the yearning hope within me, for a power from death to save, 
Rises clad with exultation at the Christ who bursts the grave. 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


15 


Easter, Easter ! saints and angels, all creation’s wide domain, 

Bring to thee their alleluias ; and we join their sweet refrain : 

“ Alleluias to the Father, alleluias to the Son, 

Alleluias to Jehovah, to the great Eternal One.” 

Easter, Easter, joyful Easter ! O ! what human tongue can tell 
What a comfort thou dost bring us, ever here with us to dwell ; 

What a radiant light thou pourest on this palsied soul of mine, 

What a glory all-transcendent ; aye ! I feel its power divine. 

0 my soul ! thy jubilations make thee tremulous with praise, 

And thy being, thrilled with rapture tuned to all creation’s lays, 
Bursting with its glad Te Deums for the Christ who came to save, 

Now peals forth the song triumphant : Christ is risen from the grave. 

Easter, Easter, day triumphant, day of God’s redeeming love, 

When the mortal spirit vibrates with the harmony above ; 

When the cerement which confines me, scarce prevents the upward flight 
Of my soul redeemed, victorious, from the shadowy realms of night. 

Aye ! my soul now rides the billows swelling from sepulchral gloom, 
Surging o’er the blasted nations, sweeping ’fore it death’s dark doom ; 
Rising to the throne eternal, bathing chaos’ wide domain, — 

Hark ! I hear the whole creation chanting loud this Easter strain : 

Alleluia to the Father, alleluia to the Son, 

Alleluia to the Spirit, God eternal, Three in One ; 

Alleluia to the Victor leading Death in captive’s chain ; 

Alleluia, alleluia ! Christ the Lord is come to reign.” 

October 31st the Greek professor directed us to translate, 
and bring in, the speech of the Corcyrians to the Greeks, as 
given in Thucydides, which author we were then reading. 

1 translated the Greek into Latin, and the professor ap- 
peared much pleased at my effort. 

On the nth of November, I wrote in my journal: “To- 
day my soul is sore, and my cry is going out to God : Hide 
not thyself forever. O Lord, in thy mercy arise and dispel 
the gloom ; bind Thou up the broken-hearted.” On the 
26th of the same month, I wrote still more ominous words : 
“ About a week ago I passed a night all in trouble and 


6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


darkness. Sleep forsook my eyelids. I lay on my pillow 
from about half-past nine o’clock at night till four in the 
morning, without slumber. I endured unspeakable distress 
of soul ; and though I prayed continually that God would 
give me rest, my prayers seemed vain. I was in black 
despair. Last night I had a worse time, if possible. I 
sought slumber in vain till midnight, when I came out and 
prayed to God to remove the agony of mind I was suffering. 
I seemed to be afraid of disease and death, and cried in the 
bitterness of my soul that God might show me the cause. 
A thousand fears seemed to flit through my mind, and my 
prayer has been, and still is, Lord be merciful to me. What 
has brought this mental distress on me, I am unable to say.” 

I copy these words because of their prophetic import. 
The state of mind spoken of, induced such physical pain, 
and mental misery, as made my life for years almost unbear- 
able, and left, I think, permanent and serious injury. 

I found only one thing painful to me in the University 
of Aristopolis. The students had a custom of “ sloping ” 
en masse, if the professor should be a few seconds late in 
coming into the recitation-room. By “ sloping” is meant, 
leaving the room in a body, precisely as the hour for recita- 
tion arrives. By so doing the students could not have a new 
lesson assigned, and therefore would escape so much study. 
Against the practice of “ sloping” I protested from the be- 
ginning. I felt that every lesson missed, was a loss to me, 
and that the professor owed me the recitation. I therefore 
would not leave, but await his arrival. This brought the ire 
of the class down on me, and frequent threats of vengeance. 
I held my own, however, and finally brought “ sloping ” into 
disfavor. I think the boys liked me the better in the end 
for what I did, although it seemed a little perverse in me at 
first. 

Sunday evening, November 3rd, I took tea at the res- 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE, 


17 


idence of Mr. McNaughton, and was delightfully entertained 
by the family. Later in the evening, we drove out to Parvi- 
ville, where at his invitation I was to deliver a lecture on 
temperance. On our arrival the people had come and gone, 
supposing Mr. McNaughton had broken his appointment. 
On Friday evening, December 13th, we repeated our visit, 
and this time succeeded in our endeavor. This was my first 
temperance lecture. I have never known for certain why 
Mr. McNaughton was so much interested in the welfare of 
those good people ; I believe, however, that political aspira- 
tions were the cause. 

I found plenty of work during the last term of this col- 
lege year, when my studies comprised the Differential and 
Integral Calculus, Greek, Latin, French, Greek Composition, 
Latin Composition, English Literature. Mineralogy, Physics, 
Electricity and Botany. The Differential and Integral Cal- 
culus fell only in the honor course. 

April 24th, as I passed from under the university porch, 
coming from a recitatation in French, which the class had 
sloped, I narrowly escaped a bucket of water thrown from 
a window above with the purpose of giving me a bath, be- 
cause I would not "slope” with the other members of the 
class. After this, the boys found me more obdurate than 
ever. It was a poor way to gain their end, for I never could 
be frightened into doing anything. 

May 26th, the university having closed for the year, I 
left for home, once more to see my dear mother and Joe. 
How glad was my soul at the thought of again clasping to 
my breast the dear being who had so tenderly loved me from 
my infant life to the present! To my mother I could go 
with all my cares and fears, and find a sure and faithful 
friend, whose love is not affected by the times we live in; 
but in storm and calm, in sunshine and shadow, her face 

wore the same old smile, and her bosom glowed with the 
2 


t8 the evolution of a life. 

same warm love. The thought of seeing again my young- 
est brother also filled me with pleasure; for no brother ever 
loved another more than I loved Joe, and he was worthy. 

During this vacation I obtained a position in a railroad 
office at Eudoxia, at a salary of seventy-five dollars a month. 
The salary was not large, but the work was light, and I con- 
sidered myself very fortunate to be able to make so much 
during my holidays. 

By way of study I read, during this vacation, most of the 
odes of Horace, and Sallust’s Catalina, and his War of Rome 
with Jugurtha. I thought this latter work of Sallust a 
model of what such a work should be. 

Early in September, 1873, I bade farewell to mother and 
Joe, and once more set out for the university; and after a 
journey of three days, I was glad to find myself safe and 
sound in the pretty little city of Aristopolis. 

This year I obtained board and rooms at the residence of 
Mrs. Fice, on St. James street. My chum was a young man 
from Microville, intending to prepare for the ministry of the 
M. E. Church. Mr. Allen, as his name was, had a warm 
heart, a good disposition, and a great Christian faith. He 
came here, as he afterwards told me, hoping to find better 
means of attaining to purity of heart, and to sound knowl- 
edge than he could find at home. “ Here,” he said, 
“ I felt sure I could know more of the height and depth 
and breadth of the love of God in Christ; but after a stay 
of about six months I find, should I stay much longer, Mr. 
Bray, I should be a first-class infidel. The actions of the 
brethren, most of whom are already preachers, have been so 
disgraceful in themselves and disrespectful toward me, that 
I have lost most of the honest faith I brought here with me. 
God help me to get home safe, and I’ll promise not to come 
to Aristopolis again in a hurry, with the hope of receiving 
good from the society of young preachers. Look at what 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


19 


the Rev. C. did to me! While I live I shall never forget the 
insulting act. For more than an hour I marched around in 
that cattle-show, carrying the tag which he had pinned to 
my back, and on which was written, ‘ This bull for sale 
and I should have continued walking with that insult on my 
back, were it not for a strange gentleman who asked me 
why I bore such a card. I was horrified at the discovery, and 
ashamed to be seen any longer among the people; and all 
this shame and mortification came to me from the hands of 
a minister of the Gospel. I have had enough of young 
preachers. By the help of God I will look for better so- 
ciety/' 

Friday evening, October 17th, we had a very enjoyable 
time. The grove was beautifully decorated with Chinese 
lanterns, and the windows of the chapel, on the inside, with 
candles, there being about twenty-five in each window. 
Speeches were made by the professors, and some invited 
guests. The songs sung were six in number, of which I 
was chosen to sing the solos. They were: “My Spirit 
Star,' "Pretty Little Dark Eyes,” “Still Thine Own,” 
“The Husband’s Return,” “Nature’s Woodland Call, - ’ and 
“God Save the Queen.” After the speaking and singing 
within, we enjoyed ourselves for a time, listening to the 
music of the band, and walking in the grove. Lastly, we 
were all invited to take tea with Dr. Kallovir. For about 
twenty-five minutes we enjoyed ourselves at this tea as 
only students can. The party then broke up, and we all 
made for our rooms, sorry that our capacity and time were 
not greater, to drink more deeply of the pleasure which 
tasted so delightfully to all. 

To say what my religious experience was at this time, I 
copy from my journal for October 24th, 1873: 

“ Last night I had a strange dream. I thought my father 
and I were shut up in a hollow sphere whose shell was from 


20 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


two to three feet thick. From this there was no escape ex- 
cept by piercing the shell. We were completely surrounded, 
and in appalling darkness. In this situation I said to my 
father: ‘ Father, mark off with chalk a place large enough 
for our egress, and let God do the rest.' I thought the idea 
appeared childish to my father, so I did it myself, and then 
stepped backward to see the opening appear. In a moment 
it was done, and we were both at liberty.” From my journal 
of November 14th I copy: “I am praying and trusting to do 
God’s will, to be good within, as Socrates prayed. Yet the 
prayer of the King of kings, the Christ, seems more fitting 
my needs, that I may be one with my Savior. O for a 
heart quick to perceive the right, an eye penetrating as 
the rays of the sun to seek out a sure way, and a compre- 
hensive judgment to understand the law of the Lord!” 

I find a word in this quotation, “ the Christ,” which re- 
veals a somewhat disturbed state, somewhat of honest scep- 
ticism, somewhat of the honest doubt which at this time be- 
gan to come upon me from the reading of almost everything 
I could get, bearing on the fundamentals of Christianity. 
Never was ground held more tenaciously than I held mine ; 
never was there a more unwilling tenant ousted ; but, still, 
little by little I was obliged to surrender much that I 
had been accustomed to regard as essentials of Christian 
faith, and necessary to eternal life. This I had to do as 
reason forced the changes upon me. The fact also that from 
this date I made much less frequent entries in my journal, 
proves the change which was slowly but surely coming over 
me. I began to understand that states of mind, or experi- 
ence, may result from faith in things that do not exist. A 
son rejoices in the hourly expectation of meeting his mother, 
although, unknown to him, she died yesterday, while on her 
journey. Her death did not lessen his conscious joy, al- 
though the form which he was momentarily expecting to 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 21 

gladden his heart, was now cold in the embrace of death. 
His joy arose not from the fact of his mothers existence, 
but from his faith in that existence, — in other words, from 
faith in something which he supposed had an existence, but 
which had not. So with the Christian, — his ecstacy arising 
from belief in certain Christian teachings, is no proof that 
such teachings have any basis in reality. They may be dead, 
as the mother, though he rejoices in his belief that they are 
alive. So great is the faith of the sincere Mohammedan in 
Mahomet as the great prophet of God, that his mind fre- 
quently enters a state of ecstacy or even frenzy ; so also is it 
with the Christian who in a similar manner trusts to Christ. 
Each declares that “ there is no other name given whereby 
a man may be saved,” and each refuses to admit that the 
other can have salvation through the name in which he 
trusts. Still, it makes no difference to their happiness, for 
the reason, as we have seen, that a man may be as happy 
from hoping in a non-existent thing, as in something so 
firmly established as the everlasting hills. 

The dream I have given above, was not one of a kind un- 
common with me. Even from a child I was given to similar 
ones. When about nine years old, I dreamt one night that 
father and mother with the whole family were seated around 
the fire. He was telling us stories, as he usually did, when 
we heard some one walking in the chamber above. We 
were all greatly surprised, and concluded, of course, that it 
was a spirit. In a short time the steps were heard coming 
down over the long stairs, and in a minute more we beheld 
a beautiful spirit-child standing beside us. He said he had 
come from heaven, and that he wished one of us to accom- 
pany him. It was agreed that I should go. The beautiful 
spirit walked before me for some time, when he seized, and 
bore me into space, finally setting me down amidst a dazzling 
throng surrounding the throne of God, and praising Him 


22 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


who sat thereon. Here I was permitted to remain for some 
time, until I was so delighted with the many attractions of 
the beautiful place, that I wished to abide there ; but the 
spirit was commanded to take and bear me away to the lower 
regions, that I might see for myself the torments of the 
damned. In a twinkling we were whirling through space, 
and soon we found ourselves at the massive gates of the in- 
fernal regions. The doors were thrown open, and we were 
admitted. Here was every conceivable kind of torments, 
which infinite power and skill could contrive. Wherever 
we looked were devils yelling, fires raging, and the lost 
groaning. Thousands of little dog-like fiends went hither and 
thither, snarling and biting ; and I thought their bite was the 
bite of eternal death. Into the wound they made, they injected 
a poison which passed through and through the being bitten, 
vitiating more and more his nature, and leaving him irre- 
trievably lost. I trembled at them ; but the spirit said : 
“ Stay near me, and they can not reach you.” This I did to 
the rage of the snarling creatures which vainly tried to bite 
me protected by the angel. 

Having seen the woes of the lost burning in the fire that 
is never quenched, once more the gates of hell flew open, 
and we were rushing through space. Again we stand in 
the presence of God. Here I wished to remain forever ; 
but God said : “ It is not yet time ; take him whence he 
came ; let him finish the work I have given him to do.” 
The spirit takes me, though unwilling, and bears me to my 
father’s house. 

At another time I dreamt I met the devil who challenged 
rAe to wrestle with him. At this time I was about fifteen 
years old, and enjoyed wrestling very much, and was con. 
sidered very expert at it. I accepted his challenge, and soon 
threw him very heavily ; this I repeated several times, when 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


2 3 


he said to me : “ You are a coward, nevertheless ; why don’t 
you take out those things you have in your pocket?” 

I thought there were in my pocket a prayer-book and a 
bible ; and these I was unwilling at first to take out. Fi- 
nally I said : “ Although it is against my principles to wres- 
tle without the prayer-book and bible, still I am quite satis- 
fied I can throw you, with or without them ; so to oblige 
you, I will take them out.” 

I had no sooner taken them out than he seized, and threw 
me so violently that my very life seemed leaving me. I 
awoke in such screams that brought my father ; but it was 
some time before he succeeded in calming me. My ner- 
vous shock was a very severe one. 

Again, when I was about sixteen, I dreamt that the 
Judgment-day had come. All mankind was passing, one 
by one, over a scales. Those who brought down the scales, 
went to the right ; those who could not, went to the left. 
I felt no fear for myself, but was greatly agitated over the 
possible fate of my father. Soon I passed to the right, bless- 
ing God for what He had done for me ; finally my father 
moved to pass over the scales. The nearer he came to it, 
the greater my fright. On he came ; his feet were almost 
upon it. Another step and his doom is forever fixed. I was 
breathless, motionless, fainting. His feet are upon the scales. 
Does it move ? Yes, it moves downward. Thank God ! my 
father is saved ; but my life is nearly gone. It was some 
time before I could recover from the effects of this dream. 
I might relate other dreams I had, but these are the most 
important. They show to a certainty the food I fed on, the 
books I read, the state of my mind, and my deeply religious 
nature. It is a pity such books are ever printed. They are 
a curse to those who read them. 

After a hard year’s study, I left Aristopolis, May 29th, 
1874, for Eudoxia, Michigan, to spend the vacation with 


24 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


mother and Joe. At the thought of meeting my mother 
my heart always bounded with joy; and separation from 
Joe, my youngest brother, was at all times pain and grief 
to me. He was a loving, faithful boy, kind-hearted and 
good. 

During the vacation I made a special study of the He- 
brew language. At the end of the vacation, I was so far 
advanced, that, on my return to the university, I was put 
into the second year’s class in Hebrew. I had almost 
finished Arnold’s first Hebrew Book, and had read several 
chapters of the book of Genesis, all without a teacher. 

It was during this vacation that I preached for the first 
time, having received a special invitation to do so from the 
Methodist Episcopal minister in charge of the church at 
Eudoxia. My sermon was delivered July 19th, and based 
on I Gal. i, 8. Previous to my delivering the sermon I 
had spent much time in prayer, and for days before, as well 
as at the time of delivery, I was greatly agitated. 

About this time I received a letter from my dear friend 
and college chum, who was a Methodist minister attending 
the university. “ Oh, friend Bray!” he said, “ I have to in- 
form you that my darling Lena is dead. Yes, dead, dead! 
My brightest earthly hopes are all crushed and withered. 
She was not only highly educated and accomplished, but 
naturally pure, virtuous, modest, gentle, and loving.” 

It is indirectly to the death of this excellent young lady, 
that I myself attribute to no small degree the great change 
that, a few years after, passed over the religious belief of 
my friend. Feeling his ignorance of those matters which 
ministers in general affirm as most certainly known, he, 
like myself, determined on a course of post-graduate study. 
He went to Breslau, Germany, where he continued at work 
two years. He then returned to Canada, but not to preach. 
The result of his work so increased his conscious ignorance, 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


2 5 


that he resolved to assert no more, as known and true, 
what now he clearly saw was unknown and unreasonable. 
He took up the work of teaching, and, had he lived, would 
have become a well known educator. He died suddenly 
while experimenting at the laboratory of the college where 
he was teaching. He left behind him a widow and one or 
two little children. He was a hard working student, a good 
man, and a true friend. He was the most intimate com- 
panion I ever had among all my college acquaintances; and 
I deeply regret his death. I believe he still lives, and lives 
with the blessed; and some day I hope to rejoin him. 

It is quite generally supposed that great affliction and 
sorrow tend to soften and increase the religious spirit of the 
sufferer; but I have not found it so. On the contrary, I 
believe that it tends to increase the questioning spirit, and 
make of the sufferer a more matter-of-fact man. 

Friday, September 25th, 1874, I left for college, on the 
steamer Winslow. At Detroit I remained two days visiting 
the family of Mr. B. He had two very charming daughters 
who had many admirers, among whom I might name my- 
self. 

Wednesday morning at one o’clock, I took the cars for 
Olympia. Remaining there two days, I purchased my 
ticket for Aristopolis, and once more found myself at work 
in the quiet little town, on the peaceful Lake Ontario. 

On board the Winslow there happened to be among the 
passengers an old gentleman by the name of Taggart. He 
had with him a charming and beautiful girl, with whom I 
soon became well acquainted. It was through her that I 
was introduced to her father, who I discovered was, in 
popular language, an infidel. We frequently conversed on 
religious topics, at which time I would press upon him 
what I regarded as the most convincing proof of the deity 
of Christ. Having failed to satisfy his inquiring mind by 


26 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


argument, I spoke to him of the great pleasure derived 
from the feeling that God was our Father. To this he re- 
plied, in a way that surprised me : “ My dear sir ! ” said he, 
“ I never take a morsel of food, without thanking Him from 
whom all things come. That He is the Father of all, I 
doubt not; that I am his child, I confidently believe.” 

Here was a man called an infidel, who in my heart I was 
forced to admit, had a faith far deeper, and a trust more 
complete than myself, although a child of the orthodox 
faith. The knowledge of this fact set me to thinking, 
which in due time brought forth its proper fruit. 

I arrived at Aristopolis on Friday evening, October 2nd. 
That night I stayed at the North American hotel. The 
next day I obtained board and rooms at the residence of a 
Miss Dickenson, an elderly, maiden lady of good family and 
superior education. 

The year now opening was to be my last at the college of 
arts ; I was a member of the senior class. At such times 
young men’s expectations are not so great as in preceding 
years. Fields at a distance look green ; distance lends 
enchantment, distorts the reality. Like that of others, my 
mind was tossed hither and thither on the tempest of uncer- 
tainty. I was in the valley of indecision. There were very 
many obscure paths, but none so plain that I, a way-faring 
man, might not err therein. 

As representing my religious state at this time, I will 
quote from what I wrote at this date in my autograph 
album : 

“ Rerumque ignarus, imagine gaudet.” 

(Virgil.) 

And can the Infinite be known? 

Is God the Father, God the Son ? 

Him whom no eyes have ever seen, whose fiat is the law, 
Jehovah, Lord, God without end, man manifested saw ! 


EARLY LIFE AND PARENTAGE. 


27 


What a conflict of words, unintelligible surds ! 

Who can extract their root ? 

More than reason affords, or history records, 

Is the mystery of God’s own book. 

Every line of this original poem reveals deep doubt, a 
doubt ever widening and deepening as the consciousness 
grew in me, that reason and reason alone must be the ulti- 
mate judge in all things ; and that whatever teachings did 
violence to reason, should not be accepted as true elements 
of faith. That not a few dogmas of Christianity did 
violence to reason, contradicted one another, and all ideas of 
the justice and goodness of God, I could not for one 
moment doubt. 

Through the college year of 1873-4 I frequently attended 
the Bible Christian Sunday school. It was there that I first 
met with Agnes Lewarne. She was a young lady of most 
pleasing address, graceful form, and remarkable beauty. 
Her large blue eyes seemed to reveal greater and greater 
loveliness, as one was privileged to look through them into 
the depths of her soul. Never had mortal more beautiful 
hands than had Agnes. Everywhere was she marked with 
beauty, grace, refinement, and love. Gentleness and 
modesty were revealed in her countenance, and expressed 
in every movement of her exquisitely moulded form. Said 
a Congregational minister to me a short time after he had 
been introduced to her : “ No man, once having seen that 

face, its deep expression of resignation and purity, can ever 
forget it.” Agnes was the favorite of the household; around 
her every brother and sister moved as planets around a sun. 
But to none, perhaps, was she so dear as to her twin-brother. 
Bound to each other, as it were, before the world was, they 
loved each other before the darkness was divided from the 
light ; and when the sun was created to rule their day, and 
the moon their night, they rejoiced at the light, and walked 


28 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


in it, arm in arm, in the greatest degree of confidence and 
love. 

As an honor student I was well known to most of the 
young people ; but further than this I had no special 
acquaintance with Agnes Lewarne, before the winter of 
1874. It was on December 12th of that year, that I 
attended an exhibition given by the Young Men’s Christian 
Association. The hall was crowded. I stood in the back 
part of it, behind a seat occupied by some young ladies, one 
of whom was Agnes Lewarne. The large audience and poor 
ventilation made the place unbearably hot ; and but few, if 
any, of the ladies had come provided with fans. One lady 
was heard to cry out : “ Let me out ! For God’s sake let 

me out, or I shall die.” Seeing my opportunity, I politely 
asked Miss Lewarne, if she would accept of my hat, and use 
it as a fan. She accepted it, and from that time our 
acquaintance began to change rapidly into love. It was but 
a short time before we were pledged to each other, and 
never were mortals happier than we who felt unspeakably 
rich, in the possession of each other’s unbounded love. 


CHAPTER II. 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 

On the 26th of May, 1875, the large and elegant city 
hall was crowded to witness the Convocation Exercises. At 
that time I received my first degree, that of B. A. But a 
prize of infinitely greater value than a degree in arts, was 
given me on that day ; for I had no sooner received my 
degree than I hastened from the hall to the residence of 
Mr. N. Lewarne, where, at six o'clock, Agnes, the oldest 
daughter, and myself, were united in marriage by the Rev. 
Mr. Whiteman, of the Bible Christian Church. 

Oh, what bliss filled my soul! What rivers of pleasure 
rolled over us at the consciousness that we were one! She 
stood before me a goddess, the very incarnation of loveli- 
ness, purity, virtue, and truth. Faith in heaven and its 
pleasures we both had; but neither of us, at that time, could 
envy the joy of the angels. 

My dear friend, Mr. Metcalf, was present at the mar- 
riage. From that day I have never had the pleasure of 
seeing him. I sincerely hope that during the years that 
have passed, fortune may have smiled upon him. He had 
been for some years a student at law, and was then about to 
enter on his life’s work. I had no acquaintance in Canada 
whom I more highly esteemed. 

We left Aristopolis on the evening of the day of our 
marriage, on the 8:15 train, for the United States. All 
things with me had changed. The very car we rode in 
seemed a bed of roses, and the air we breathed redolent 
with its perfume. How sad it is that such feelings should 

29 


30 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


be fleeting, that such bliss should pass away, and the be- 
reaved and withered heart become a sepulchre, where lie 
entombed but memories of dear forms and of pleasures to 
be known no more forever! How utterly blasted is the soul 
bereaved of such love and companionship! Once a tree 
with foliage green and sheltering boughs, he is now but a 
withered trunk, leafless and boughless, fit food for the 
flames. 

At half-past six o’clock, Thursday morning, the waters of 
the St. Clair river appeared before us, rushing on like a 
stream of molten metal. We were passing from the native 
land of Agnes, and entering the Great Republic. Ah, little 
I then thought that the land she so much loved, now disap- 
pearing from her view, would appear to her no more for- 
ever ! I think of that beautiful stream, with feelings of 
rapture and awe. How many, happy as was I, had gazed 
on that immortal current, who now had ceased to be remem- 
bered forever ! How many hands, once clasped in love, as 
were our own, were now folded in the stillness of death 
across the silent breasts lying along the shore of that 
unmindful stream ! It reveals no secrets, tells no tales, 
represents no parting scenes, pictures no bosoms trembling 
with pleasure, nor paints a soul engulfed in woe; but, heed- 
less and unmindful, it keeps on its course amid all the 
changing scenes of life. Neither smiles nor tears; neither 
nuptial songs nor funeral dirge; neither the cry of joy that 
a child is born, nor the wail of despair that a loved one is 
dead, can move the heart of this mighty monarch, this 
conqueror of time. 

But souls tremulous with delight, breasts bursting with 
joyous emotion, are not inclined to sad reflection. 

On the banks of the beautiful St. Clair, we remained a 
week, a week that never can be forgotten till I, too, sleep the 
sleep of death. And if it shall be that after death the 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


31 


memories of the past be with me, never through eternal 
years will I cease to love the being who shared those joys 
with me. She was my joy, my life, my all. Her presence 
was heaven to me; her smile intoxication; and a single 
touch of her loving hand would so electrify my soul as to 
resurrect me, though dead. At her approach I could con- 
scientiously say : 

“ She is coming, my own, my sweet; 

Were it ever so airy a tread, 

My heart would hear her and beat, 

Were it earth in an earthy bed; 

My dust would hear her and beat, 

Had I lain for a century dead; 

Would start and tremble under her feet, 

And blossom in purple and red.” 

At Fort Gratiot we took the boat for Eudoxia, Michigan. 
The boat was crowded with passengers ; and, had the cap- 
tain not given up his own room for our accommodation, we 
should have had anything but an agreeable trip. The large 
amount of field-ice greatly impeded the boat’s progress. 
Icebergs were plentiful all around us, and for more than 
seventy miles we were obliged to make our way through ice 
from six inches to three feet thick. As the boat, having 
backed up, would plunge into the solid surface, every timber 
would tremble, and destruction appeared to threaten us; 
but, after much delay, we were brought safely into the 
harbor of the beautifully situated city of Eudoxia, and joy- 
fully received by mother and Joe. 

On the following Sunday we attended the Methodist 
Episcopal church. For, although born and raised in the 
English Church, I had seldom attended the Episcopal 
Church in this country ; but, from long association with 
Methodist students, had become strongly attached to the 
Methodist Church. On the day mentioned we heard, for 


3 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


the first time, the Rev. Mr. Tubbs preach. He was about 
thirty-four years of age, of medium height, light complexion, 
stylish in dress, and slow of speech. His sermons appealed 
to the reason more than to the feelings. Many were dis- 
pleased, and I wonder not; for of those who fill the churches, 
but few are they who relish reason. One said : “ There is 

no food to be had in that church now. I must go some- 
where else, or I shall lose the faith I have.” Said another : 
“ He looks for all the world like an actor. If he has not 
missed his calling, then I am no judge of human nature; 
but time will prove my words correct.” 

Mr. Tubbs was a good scholar, gentlemanly in manners, 
faithful to his mother and sister, and chaste in life. While 
walking with me one day, he said : “ I can not help think- 

ing, Mr. Bray, that I have some friends in this church; but to 
tell you the truth, I do not think I have ever preached a sin- 
gle sermon in this place to what I might call an appreciative 
and sympathizing audience.” I replied I did not know of 
course, being almost a stranger to the inner workings of the 
church in Eudoxia, but that I was very sorry to hear what 
he had said. “ Is not the presiding elder on friendly terms 
with you ? ” I asked. “ The presiding elder,” said he, “ is 
outwardly a professor of sanctification, but in his heart, Mr. 
Bray, he is an infidel.” 

Shortly after my arrival the quarterly meeting of the 
church was held. To this I had an invitation. I also had 
a right to be there, being at the time a local preacher. I 
accordingly attended. The question came up whether or 
not Mr. Tubbs should be invited to return to the people of 
Eudoxia another year, and caused a lengthy and bitter dis- 
cussion. Father Sanctity arose and said : “I have a large 
class which, as all my brethren know, is the backbone of 
this church. My class to a man is opposed to Mr. Tubbs’ 
return. They know that Mr. Tubbs can not feed them with 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


33 


Gospel truth. They ask wheat, and receive chaff ; they ask 
a fish, and receive a stone. I give my warning voice here 
in this meeting against inviting Mr. Tubbs to return here 
another year. Do so, brethren, and you do so at your own 
peril. I have been a Methodist all my life, and I know 
what Methodism is, and I know that Mr. Tubbs’ new fangled 
notions are not the good old-fashioned Methodism that I 
have been used to, and I want none of it. These are my 
sentiments and the sentiments of my class.” 

There were several other class-leaders present who felt 
highly offended at the manner in which Father Sanctity had 
extolled himself and his class. Seeing how their feelings 
were hurt, I arose and said that Father Sanctity must not 
be misunderstood ; that none better than he knew that the 
church did not stand on one man or one class ; that Father 
Sanctity was a hard-working member of the church, and, as 
such, had a right to be heard ; but that neither he nor his 
class could suppose that their judgment should overrule the 
combined judgment of the rest. My own opinion was, I 
said, that Mr. Tubbs should be invited to return to them 
another year. It was desirable for his future success, and 
it was far from certain that any other man whom they might 
have in his place, would be any more acceptable to the peo- 
ple of Eudoxia. For this speech Father Sanctity could 
never forgive me. At the first prayer-meeting I attended 
on my return from school the next year, I saw many familiar 
faces. Father Sanctity was there, and was even invited by 
the Rev. Mr. Tubbs to make the closing prayer. He did 
so in a most familiar, boisterous manner. He prayed for a 
heart of love to God and man ; a heart forgiving and kind; 
a heart at peace with the world and its God ; a heart into 
which malice should never enter ; a heart like unto the 
heart of Christ. His petitions were in general such as the 
pure minded Marcus Aurelius might have made, and every 
3 


34 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


child of man wish granted. The people having been dis- 
missed, there was a general shaking of hands. 1 ap- 
proached Father Sanctity, and offered him my hand. He 
refused to take it, saying I had hurt him the preceding 
year. I told him I was shocked at him, at the mockery of 
his prayer, and advised him to go home, enter his secret 
chamber, and come out no more until he had a better heart. 

Here I had the most certain proof that man may use the 
words of prayer, yet never pray ; that his lips may say, “the 
Lord be with you,” while in his heart he may wish that you 
be possessed of a demon. Of this fact I became more and 
more convinced, as I watched more and more the lives of 
those who prayed. This knowledge increased the doubts 
already existing in my breast, and made me begin a more 
searching investigation of the fundamentals of Christianity. 
I felt more and more the uncertainty of things received 
without question, and determined not to enter on the work 
of the ministry, until I sought and obtained more informa- 
tion. I therefore made up my mind to complete a theologi- 
cal course. By so doing I felt sure I should get more light 
on those matters which now were so obscure to me. Surely, 
I thought, men whose sole work it is to teach theology, must 
know more than all others about the Being of whom they 
speak. So I thought, but so I found was not the case. 
Rather did I find in theology a mass of jarring words, and 
of unreasonable and conflicting statements ; and in theo- 
logians, the bitterest antagonism to one another, and a gen- 
eral and profound ignorance concerning the subjects of 
which they speak. And after long continued and most 
earnest study, through the best and richest years of my life, 
I am convinced that theologians, as a class, are very fitly 
characterized by the words of Democritus : 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


35 


“ t oG<rov aXXoiot i i£T£<puv , Toffov ap <j<ptffiv acet 
xat to <ppoveiv aXXota Tzaptffzaro — 

By as much as they differ in nature, 

Do they always differ in opinion.” 

The truth of these words may be doubted, but they can be 
doubted only by him who has not sufficiently investigated 
the subject. 

On Friday, September 17th, I once more left the beauti- 
ful little city of Eudoxia, on board the steamboat Winslow, 
bound for Pontiville via Buffalo. The day was beautiful, 
the waters calm, and the boat both strong and graceful ; and 
•as she lay on the mighty waters rising and falling, and joy- 
ous, as it were, at the beautiful boat that lay on its bosom, 
she seemed tremulous with emotion, as a blushing maiden in 
the embrace of her lover. But the peace and beauty of the 
-elements without, could not affect the tempest within ; my 
heart was ready to break at the thought of leaving Aggie. 
Accompanied by my brother, she came with me to the boat ; 
and after the boat had steamed out of the harbor, she 
remained at the wharf, watching till it had disappeared in 
the distance. The expectation was that she would follow 
me as soon as I could obtain acceptable rooms and board ; 
but the thought of parting for a month, and perhaps more, 
unmanned me completely. She returned, as she afterwards 
told me, to her private chamber in my mother’s house, there 
to weep and pray for hours. As the boat bore me away 
from her, and her beloved form faded away from my view, 
the very life seemed oozing out of me ; and when in the dis- 
tance I could see her no longer, happiness passed from me, 
till I saw her again. This is the first and last time we were 
ever separated. 

Having arrived at Pontiville, I soon found my way to the 
theological school in that city, and introduced myself to the 


36 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


professors who were a very affable and obliging body of 
gentlemen. The professors having examined me, I was 
classed with the seniors in Hebrew ; in the other studies, 
with the middle-men. I was shortly afterwards informed by 
the faculty that, being so far advanced, I could, with a little 
extra labor, easily graduate with the present senior class. 
All things seemed favorable ; the only cloud in my sky was 
the absence of Aggie ; and this absence fell so heavily on 
me, that I determined not to remain in Pontiville, unless I 
could have her with me. In a few days I was greatly dis- 
couraged, on finding that it was impossible for me to meet 
the expenses of living in Pontiville with Aggie ; and I there- 
fore determined to leave for the theological school situated 
at Euphronia. Having arrived I was dnce more examined 
by the faculty who classed me with the seniors, with the 
understanding that I was to make up the systematic and the 
practical theology of the middle year. This I was but a short 
time in doing. 

I was well pleased with the change I had made from 
Pontiville to Euphronia. Euphronia was a healthful, quiet 
little town, and the school had as fine, polite, and obliging 
body of men for teachers, as one would wish to find. The 
professor of Hebrew was very liberal in his ideas. His 
sharp shears so pruned the Old Testament, that, in my judg- 
ment, not much of the Jewish tree remained ; and at the fall 
of every branch he would smile ; and as the professor was a 
good man, I have thought the smile was caused by his sense 
of satisfaction in pruning a tree whose branches served as 
the resort of so many birds of prey. 

For some reasons, however, I should have preferred to 
remain in Pontiville, had it not been for the great expense. 
The professors there were still more liberal in their ideas 
than those at Euphronia. The professor of systematic the- 
ology at Pontiville, was a bright man over whom German 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


37 


theology had great influence. Compared to what I had been 
accustomed to hear, the lectures of this man seemed the 
flower of infidelity. But so it ever is ; for nothing is better 
known than that theology varies as the climate and educa- 
tion of the theologian. 

On the 22nd of October I went to the city to meet my be- 
loved Aggie, whom I was now enabled to have with me. 
Having found a conspicuous place, I watched the moving 
mass of people coming out of the cars. What a sight ! 
There a bridal couple making a marriage tour, with counten- 
ances radiant with pleasure ; here a pale face, with sunken 
eyes, and emaciated form, finding her way to the grave, 
chased by consumption ; there the riches of Dives, here the 
poverty of Lazarus ; there the revelry of Belshazzar the king, 
here the mourning of the widow of Nain. As I reflected on 
these different phases of human life, I thought how fre- 
quently they are all experienced by the one human soul. As 
the gamut contains all the notes of the scale, so some men 
seem to experience every varied phase of human life, from 
the highest point of power to the lowest depths of degrada- 
dation and woe. 

But my contemplation was at an end. There was my joy, 
my life, my all. There was the beautiful face frightened, as 
it were, looking in all directions for me. Our eyes met, the 
frightened expression passed away, and a look of peace and 
pleasure passed over her countenance : and with joy she fell 
into my arms. 

We spent some time in the city, and while there we both 
saw such marks of poverty as we never before had seen, and 
never afterwards forgot. The sight of poverty and want, was 
always most painful to me, and still more so to Aggie ; and 
no greater pain could we ever experience than that which we 
sometimes felt, when obliged to be deaf to an appeal for aid. 

I had rented two rooms in the house of a Mrs. Monahan, 


38 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


and such furniture as we thought necessary for our comfort. 
Doves were never happier than we, pent up, as it were, in 
our narrow cage. Of such a life it is not too much to say, 
“ one day is better than a thousand.” 

Having become 'settled, our walks were long and fre- 
quent, and greatly enjoyed. Beautiful residences were seen 
on every hand, whose owners seemed to vie with one another 
in setting forth their parks, lawns and gardens to the best 
advantage. Euphronia was, indeed, a delightful place. 

Needing some wearing apparel for Aggie, we determined, 
Saturday, November 6th, to go to Heimville, a distance of 
four miles, to purchase it. It was Aggie’s wish to make the 
journey on foot, more especially that she might view the 
beautiful scenery. The time occupied in walking passed 
rapidly away, we were so delighted with the sights we saw. 
It was like an enchanted land, and we appeared under the 
spell of the enchantress. On our return home, Aggie was 
very tired ; but the long walk seemed to do her good. As 
I write these lines, I unconsciously, as it were, turn to speak 
to her, or listen to her voice ; and when I find her not by 
my side, I fancy she must be hiding, and determine to repay 
her for her mischievous sport. But this imaginary bliss is 
with me only for a second, when a terrible weight seems to 
fall upon me, crushing my very life out, and I realize the 
awful truth that she will sport with me no more, speak to me 
no more, walk with me no more, — that she is asleep in the 
silent chambers of the dead. Were it God’s will that I 
should have her back again, I would dig down into those 
silent chambers, and rob the grave of her precious dust. 
Then could I once more look into her laughing blue eyes, 
and behold again her beautiful form ; for with God’s bles- 
sing, I would desire no greater heaven than to live with her 
forever, and forever with her to reach after a purer and 
holier life. But she is gone, and the warmth of my soul is 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE 


39 


passed away — I am cold ; yet will I say, “ thy will, oh God! 
not mine be done.” 

Among the many preparing for the work of the ministry, 
there was a young man called Pascoe, who had been out 
from England about three years. As showing the untrust- 
worthy character of “ calls ” in general, I will give what he 
considered the unquestionable evidence of his “ call,” as re- 
lated to me by himself, when visiting him : 

“ I was a superintendent of a mine in England, when I 
felt my ‘ call ’ ; but, like Gideon of old, I wished a positive 
sign from God. I took a sample of ore, and dividing it into 
two equal portions, I kept one myself, and sent the other to 
a regular assayist. Not understanding the work of assaying, 
I promised God that if I determined correctly the percentage 
of metal in the ore, I would regard it as a positive sign from 
Him, that I was called to the work of the ministry. In due 
time I was surprised to know that the results of my assay 
agreed exactly with those of the regular assayist. For this I 
thanked God ; but, still, I was undecided. Once more I 
prayed for a sign. I took some more ore, and, as before, 
divided it into two equal portions, keeping one myself, and 
sending the other to the regular assayist. This time I 
promised God that if I could find no metal in the ore as the 
results of my assay, I would regard it as not to be doubted, 
that He had called me to preach the everlasting Gospel of 
the Son of God. I was greatly surprised to know that, 
although the assayist found the same percentage of metal, as 
before, I could find no traces of metal whatever. I thanked 
God for such a miraculous manifestation of his will concern- 
ing me, and from that time I have not doubted my ‘ call.’ 
At the same time I was engaged to be married to a beautiful 
and accomplished young lady, who on finding my determina- 
tion to enter the ministry, refused to become my wife. I 
was pained to give her up ; but she drifted away with the 


40 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


world, while I am still clinging to the cross. Do you not 
think, brother Bray, that I had a wonderful experience ? ” 

“ However unfounded the reasons for a person’s rejoic- 
ing may be, Mr. Pascoe, it is almost a pity to disturb his 
pleasant imaginations ; but I am bound to confess that I 
have but little faith in the miraculous nature of your ‘ call.’ 
As water will seek the lowest level, so must I always seek 
the most natural explanation of whatever occurs. I believe, 
if every one did this, there would be acknowledged no in- 
terference with the ordinary operations of nature. As I 
have never seen nor heard sufficient evidence for the 
acknowledgment of the occurrence of miracles in the past, 
so in your case I see nothing which I could not more reason- 
ably explain without a miracle than with it. Besides, if you 
had a right to demand a miracle in proof of your mission, 
which you must confess is a very small matter, I certainly 
have a right to demand one in proof that the regular laws 
of nature have been violated, which we both must admit 
would be a stupendous thing to happen. As you can not 
give me such proof, I do not see how, as a reasonable man, 
I can believe that God gave you a miraculous sign. It 
seems to me it takes a miracle to prove a miracle, and that^ 
too, without end; and this fact, it seems to me, makes belief 
in miracles impossible. In your case I find it much easier 
to suppose, first, that the crucible leaked, or, second, that 
the ore was non-metallic, than in the occurrence of a 
miracle. Again, you must have been greatly excited, be- 
lieving as you did in the visible interference of the hand of 
God. This itself would make you a very unsafe witness to 
testify in matters which, because of their very nature, de- 
mand the coolest reason, and most critical judgment. Lastly, 
by your own account, you were not a skilled assayist. Even 
in a common court of law, in proof of every-day occur- 
rences, your testimony would be inadmissible, having ad- 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


41 


mitted your own incompetency. What witness can testify 
about matters of which he himself admits his ignorance ? I 
can not receive your testimony concerning the percentage 
of metal, as proving your case. I must conclude that you 
were deceived as to what you supposed was a miracle. It 
seems to me, to believe that in your case there was a miracle 
performed, would be like a man attempting to create a god 
to do a piece of work which a mouse could easily accom- 
plish. No man should look to a miracle for the explanation 
of an occurrence which obviously offers a more ready ex- 
planation. Still, the proof you 'give for your miracle, is 
much superior to that for miracles in general, since it is given 
me at first hand, and by a man I know.” 

Mr. Gottlieb was the superintendent of the Methodist 
Sunday-school in Euphronia. While visiting at his house one 
evening, he told me the following in proof of miraculous 
interferences: “ Not long ago,” he said, “ I lost my place 
on the New York Exchange. I tried every honest means 
to get back, but my enemies were too powerful for me. My 
family, used to luxury, was now threatened with want. In 
this state I sent a letter to one of the most prominent mem- 
bers, who, I knew, if he would, could have me re-instated in 
my former position. He answered my letter, saying : 1 Ask 
me no favors; I have done with you. Never! never! never! 
shall you get back again, if I have the power to keep you 
out.’ The letter gave me an indescribable feeling. I felt 
ruined, or as one who had lost all hope. With penury and 
disgrace staring me in the face, and the thought of a ruined 
family breaking my heart, I suddenly thought of my God. 
I went to the blessed book, opened its pages at random; and 
the first text l saw, was : ‘ Behold, I have set before thee an 
open door, and no man can shut it.’ I took some letter-pa- 
per, wrote down the promise, and sent it to the man who 
before had answered me so cruelly. I waited some time, 


42 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


fully believing that God would send his angel, and open the 
door, no matter how great the stone they had rolled against 
-it. God kept his promise with me, Mr. Bray. In a short 
time I was back again in my old place; and, as far as the 
happiness of my family was concerned, I once more felt my 
feet upon a rock. From that time, Mr. Bray, I have never 
been able to doubt the Lord. He makes a way for his peo- 
ple, even though it be through the Red Sea.” 

When hearing this story, I wondered why a man of Mr. 
Gottlieb’s intelligence, should seek a miracle, a supernatural 
cause, for the explanation of something the most natural in 
the world. Even were it true that without the words or 
promises sent to the person, Mr. Gottlieb would never have 
had his old place again, still it does not follow that a miracle 
was performed. On reading the words it would be but nat- 
ural for his enemy to think, and, perhaps, reflect; and partly 
from the sense of justice, and partly from the feeling of 
pity, to relent, and move to restore the offending party. 
And, again, when we know that the mind of the most re- 
lentless enemy is subject to change, we should seek an ex- 
planation of such restoration here, a natural cause, rather 
than in something subversive of the order of nature, a su- 
pernatural cause. It is wonderful on what flimsy evidence 
the credulous. minded man admits the occurrence of mira- 
cles; but the reasonable man can not easily be induced to 
look beyond nature, as he knows it, for the explanation of 
things occurring in nature. Mr. Gottlieb had a very pleas- 
ant home, and quite a refined family; but I doubt not that, 
had he given less attention to making corners in wheat, 
and gambling on Wall street, thus increasing the poor man’s 
sweat, and decreasing his bread; and more attention to the 
proper cultivation of his intellect, he would have been able 
to find, even in his own village, a ready explanation of all 
that had occurred, and thus saved himself the trouble of 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


43 


going beyond the stars for it. But living in a world where 
superstition is planted in hot-beds, and cultivated with the 
most assiduous care, it is hard to free the uncultivated mind* 
from the bands with which he is bound; even when you at- 
tempt to do so, you are in danger of being charged with 
atheism or infidelity. I well remember a beautiful Irish girl 
who said to me : “ Our priest, if he will, can turn you into 
a snake. I know of one or two cases. I was very sorry for 
them; I should not like it to happen to you.” “Helen,” I 
said, “ tell your priest that I give him six weeks to make 
such transformation with me.” I do not know whether or 
not she carried the message; but I remain to this day in the 
likeness of man. 

Wednesday, December 6th, I was examined in the sys- 
tematic theology of the middle-year. My answers were full 
and correct, although the professor told me I had about 
three times as many questions as I should have had, had I 
been regularly examined with the class. 

I have said that the country surrounding Euphronia, is 
charming. No school could have a more delightful location 
than has Euphronia theological seminary. It is surrounded 
with beautiful grounds covered with stately trees, among 
which stand the charming homes of the different pro- 
fessors whose work it is to teach the students the principles 
of their faith. Often would Aggie and I saunter through 
those beautiful grounds, admiring the tall chestnut trees, the 
shady beach, the beautiful hickory, the graceful maple, and 
the noble oak; and when admiring them, they appeared to 
be glad at our joy. Their beauty and grandeur seemed to 
increase, as we more and more rejoiced in each other’s love. 
There seem to be a bond of sympathy running through 
the whole creation. Often in my gloomy hours have I 
thought I heard the pine tree groan; and when my heart has 
been full of pleasure, I have not failed to see expand, as if 


44 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


with joy, the leafy branches of the beautiful maple, nor 
hear the laugh of the morning-glories. And why should 
.this not be so ? Are we not all children of the same mother, 
earth? And are we not all alike hushed to sleep on the 
same breast that nursed our life ? Thus Agnes and myself 
might well feel our unity with nature, and nature’s unity 
with us. Nor could we in those walks fail to think of the 
future. The time and place were fitting contemplation. 
“ Building castles in the air,” is all many have to live on; 
and while we had even then the very fulness of life, we 
could still think of a time when we should be settled in life’s 
work, going hand in hand, building up on earth the king- 
dom of God, our Father. We had no mansion to live in; 
no lawns nor beautiful walks surrounded our humble home; 
but peace reigned within and without, and the smile of our 
God was upon us. Our dwelling-place, such as it was, was 
the temple of the Father, who was as near to us as to wrest- 
ling Jacob, or royal David; and our lives were a unity of 
experience and hope. 

The walk to the post-office was a frequent one with us ; 
and our almost daily walk over this familiar road, made it a 
hallowed one to me ; and it will ever remain in my soul a 
place of holy memories. Here' reverberated the heart- 
thrilling footsteps of my beautiful Aggie. Here often 
glided along the form of her whose presence was my life, 
whose absence was my death. Here often would I clasp 
that graceful being to myself, the lovely, loving Agnes who, 
though now long absent, yet remains with me to sweeten 
the bitterness of life. 

On the evening of March ioth, 1876, we attended a 
social gathering, at the residence of the president of the 
school; and on the evening of the 24th, another, at the 
residence of the professor of systematic theology. On 
each occasion the attendance was large, and the guests 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


45 


greatly enjoyed themselves. Each party broke up about 
eleven o’clock at night ; and as we were going through 
the grove to our humble home, we spoke of the amorous 
meeting of the trees over our heads from the opposite 
sides of the path, as if to clasp one another in love’s em- 
brace. The gentle breeze whispered of the goodness of 
God ; the stars looking down upon us, revealed their 
Maker ; and our hearts beating in responsive praise, pro- 
claimed the Hand that made us was divine. 

On April 8th we visited the city, and while there, spent 
some time in the principal parks, to the great delight of 
Aggie. The aspect of the outer world seems determined 
by the state of the world within. To the heart contented 
and happy, all nature appears in festive attire; to the heart 
despairing and broken, she appears in mourning weeds. 
Thus it was with us: happy in each other’s love, we saw all 
nature smile. 

It was during this visit that I purchased a small, but 
very pretty, gold watch for my beloved wife whom, had she 
wished, and were it possible, I would have decked with 
diamonds, and crowned with glory. How glad was I in 
this manner to manifest my love for her! It was but a 
small token; for had I the means, I fancy I could have 
passed my life inventing methods by which I might have 
poured upon her, as if from a bottomless sea, the floods of 
affection which overwhelmed my soul. But I could not 
create, and, knowing this, she prized the watch as highly as 
if it had been a priceless gift. How sad to see such a 
fragile and comparatively worthless thing still point to the 
hour of the day, when she for whom it was purchased, is 
numbered with the silent dead! The brook still runs plain- 
tively along, the pleiades still sparkles over us; but those 
whose presence turned the warblings of the brook into love- 
songs, and the pleiades into witnesses of lovers’ meetings, 


4 6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


where are they ? We strain our sight with gazing, we pain 
the ear with listening, we break our hearts at waiting, yet 
they come not ; “ till the heavens be no more, they shall 
not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep ” ; and, yet, who 
dares to say we shall see them nevermore. 

The year was fast coming to an end; and the time when 
we should begin life’s work near at hand. I had passed 
the examination in practical theology, Friday, March ioth, 
this being my last remaining back study; and now also the 
senior work was almost finished. April 24th, I handed the 
professor of practical theology my last sermon, the text 
being, “ Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits 
whether they are of God ”; also my oration for Commence- 
ment-day, the subject being Religion and Science. May 
10th, I preached before the students and faculty, taking as 
my text, “And his rest shall be glorious.” This practically 
ended the work of the senior year. 

Commencement-day, the time when the degrees were to 
be conferred, came on Thursday 18th. In the morning it 
rained, and gave every promise of a disagreeable day; but 
at about eleven o’clock it brightened up, and thereafter re- 
mained fine. 

The church in which the exercises were held, was 
crowded even to the aisles. Quite a number of students 
received degrees in divinity, I myself being among the 
number. 

The work of the oration, and the excitement attending 
the day’s exercises, and, added to this, my early morning’s 
labor lasting about three hours, in putting all things in order 
to move upon receiving my degree, almost prostrated me. 

At thirty-five minutes past three in the afternoon of 
Commencement-day, we left Euphronia, bound for Eudoxia, 
Michigan, on a visit to my mother and brother. 

The thought that I had finished my work, overcame my 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


47 


sense of exhaustion ; and the consciousness of having 
Aggie by my side, gave me a false feeling of strength. On 
the evening of the following day, when on board the steam- 
boat, the reaction came upon me, when I fainted in my 
state-room, remaining unconscious for several minutes. 

As showing my religious experience at the time of my 
graduation in divinity, I copy from my journal of that date : 
“ God of love ! I thank Thee for thy kindness and sparing 
mercies ; for the manner in which Thou hast led me ; for 
the determination which I have ever kept before me. By 
thy blessing I have finished the work for which I have 
prayed much. May my life, my powers, my soul, my all, be 
henceforth and forever the Lord’s.” 

I had now finished a course in arts, and a course in 
divinity, which work I had hoped would have given me a 
satisfactory knowledge concerning the matters I was to 
teach; but, sad to say, I felt no realization of former expec- 
tations. The vacancy was not filled, the aching was not 
cured, the sense of uncertainty was not removed; rather was 
my hunger for a deeper and surer knowledge, intensified. 
The question may be asked, why I did not at that time turn 
aside from the work of the ministry. I answer, it was be- 
cause of the fear that by so doing I might be opposing the 
will of God, and because also of the unsettled character of 
my own doubts. I felt, having done what I had, that I 
should go on, until I felt more certain of the falsity of the 
things I then doubted. I could not hear a missionary ser- 
mon, without feeling deep offence at what was said; I could 
not listen to a sermon on the atonement, without feeling 
shocked at the character attributed to God; I could not 
listen to the preacher as he assigned the heathen to ever- 
lasting perdition, and the Christian to everlasting blessed- 
ness, without being shocked at the blasphemy of the 
preacher. I would ask myself, why am I a Christian ? Is 


48 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


it my fault ? Why is the Turk a Mohammedan ? Is it his 
fault ? Why is the Indian a Buddhist ? Is he to blame ? 
If the Buddhist be consigned to hell, because of that for 
which he can not be blamed, why should not I, in like 
manner, be consigned to hell, because of that for which I 
am not to be blamed ? Why was I brought up in the Church 
of England ? I certainly did not make the choice. Why 
was the Chinese brought up to believe in Confucius ? He 
certainly did not choose the faith he should be raised in. I 
could not help thinking, if the Buddhist should be damned 
for accepting a faith his father and mother taught him, and 
believed in by his race, that I should be damned for doing 
likewise. I could not help believing in Christianity, as best 
for me, and my race ; but I was inclined to believe that, as 
God had given me a religion, so had He given others, or 
else to conclude that God acts with partiality and injustice. 
I clearly saw that much of my faith was based on mere 
opinion; that I was what I was, largely because of custom, 
habit, training, associations, and other such accidents ; and 
that for these accidents, no man can be justly blamed or 
praised. I was the more confirmed in this belief from the 
knowledge that the most intelligent of every age had not 
received, and would not receive, Christianity as commonly 
taught; that the philosopher’s interpretation of Christianity 
is one thing, and the theologian’s, another, — the former 
looking deeper into the nature of things, the latter skimming 
along on their surfaces. In other words, while the philoso- 
pher seeks real knowledge, the theologian seeks to establish 
opinion or “ what saith the church ? ” Thus the end of the 
philosopher’s work, is truth ; but of the theologian’s, 
dogma; and since I saw that truth and truth alone could 
save, I was inclined to side with those who sought it, as 
with those who acted from knowledge, rather than with 
those who acted from custom or habit. In other words, I 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


49 


saw the meaning of Aristotle’s words, and was forced to 
acknowledge their truth: 

“ A to xat tous apytT£XT 0 vas nept ixaaTcov rcptcorspocs xat 
pakkov etdevat vopt^op£v no v y£tpoT£yviov xat <ro<pioT£pous , ort ras 
atrtas nov itotoup£viov taaatv, tous d’ to<nt£p xat nov atpuywv £vta , 
7:oi£tv p.£v oux £tdora d£ Tt ot£tv a 7tot£t , olov xat£t to nup . . . . 
akk' ou teyouat to dta Tt t z£pt oud£vos, olov dta Tt 0£ppov to Tup , 
akka povov oti 0£ppov — Therefore, we consider the architect, 
in every case, to be more honorable, to know more, and to be 
wiser than the manual laborer, because he knows the causes 
of the things done ; while the mere manual laborer, as one 
of the soulless creatures, works without really understanding 
what he does. He works as the fire burns. He never gives 
a real reason for anything, such as, why is fire hot ; he sim- 
ply says it is hot.” (Meta. I, 1, n-14). Thus I thought it 
is with the theologian : he never gives a satisfactory reason 
or cause for anything, and, as a rule, never seeks it ; he sim- 
ply says, it is so. 

It was while I was at the Euphronia theological school, 
that Aggie’s grandfather died at the residence of her par- 
ents. He was a peaceful-looking and peace-possessing old 
gentleman. He had a good word for everybody, and was 
well known and greatly respected in the community. For 
many years he had been laying up treasure in heaven ; and 
when the pale-horse came, he went peacefully to that land 
where there are no heart-aches, no disease, no sin, no death. 
He had left Scotland when a young man, with his young wife 
and three little children. Sickness came on board ; and, after 
a few days of painful illness, his wife was consigned to a 
watery grave, the deep waters of the mighty Atlantic covering 
the form he had so much loved ; and he was left to pursue 
his journey to Canada alone with his three little babes. For 
these children he ever manifested more than usual parental 
affection ; and fifty years after the death of their mother, he 
4 


50 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

would weep at the mere mention of her name. He died 
when about eighty-six years old. Surely, at the death of 
such the earth can say, “well done, good and faithful ser- 
vant”; and heaven, “enter thou into the joy of thy Lord 
At the time of our marriage, when the moment came for 
bidding good-bye to all, this aged grandfather came for- 
ward weeping like a child, and said : “ Ah, lassie ! I shall 
ne’ermore see thee, nor will grandfather ever see the wee 
little one that shall be thine ; but God be with ye, lassie, and 
make life easy for thee and thy man.” 

The death of Mr. Hamilton fell heavily upon Aggie who 
greatly loved him. “Ah,” she said, “sure enough, I shall 
see grandfather, dear old man ! no more forever. How the 
words he uttered are come to pass ! I fancy I can see him 
now leading me about by the hand, as in days of old ; 
but he is gone. I can never hear his sweet but tremulous 
voice again. That accent brought from his beloved Scotia’s 
shores, shall fall no more on my ear. Grandfather is gone. 
Dear grandfather ! he is now with his Savior whom he so 
much adored. Ah, could I but have impressed one kiss on 
his time-wrinkled brow, ere the spirit had fled ! Could I but 
have whispered how his lassie loved him ! Could I but have 
wiped the death-sweat from his brow, and spoken to him of 
the city of the great King of which he, in days of old, had 
spoken so much to me ! Dear old grandfather ! all this 
was denied thy lassie who would have flown on the wings of 
love, if only it were possible.” Having said this she buried 
her face in her hands, and gave vent to her feelings in floods 
of tears. 

This tender, sympathetic being, my beautiful Aggie, was 
no less hurt than myself, when the preacher or theologian 
attributed to God what no human being, with a kind heart, 
would be guilty of doing ; for she could not help feeling 
that the God of her grandfather was tender and kind to all 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


51 

his children, whatever their belief or nationality. Such was 
the dear heart that was wedded to mine to help me in my 
work, and cheer me in my trials ; and such the lovely being 
that stood by my side, on our visit to mother and Joe. 

In Aggie I possessed a conservative element which might 
serve to counteract the tendencies of my more radical and 
inquiring mind. This was desirable ; for it is always most 
important to act slowly and cautiously in rejecting beliefs as 
false that possess even an apparent value. 

I have endeavored to give the reader such marks as may 
enable him to trace for himself the changes that slowly but 
surely passed over me. At first I believed in authority 
without, as Aristotle says, asking the why or wherefore ; 
next, I questioned with great hesitation ; later, I questioned 
fearlessly, feeling it a sacred duty we owe to ourselves and 
to the age we live in ; finally, I rejected everything which I 
believed was at variance with the most enlightened reason of 
the age, fully believing that it is through the reason of the 
age that the infinite Spirit manifests himself to the heart and 
mind of man. As an important mark showing my inner 
thought, I give a poem which I composed nearly a month 
prior to my marriage with Aggie, and dated at Aristopolis, 
April 28th, 1875 : 

Now rest my soul. Where wouldst thou go ? 

I’d question thee of worlds unknown. 

Why sayest thou, “ let me alone, 

I’m doomed to linger here below ? ” 

The Hand that guides the starry host, 

And feeds for aye the cosmic flame, 

That gives to great and small a name, 

That moveth all and loveth most, — 

Whence came that Hand, if such there be ? 

What powers produced the awful Cause ? 

What are, who framed, the cosmic laws ? 

Would’st thou by silence silence me ? 


5 I 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


The link that binds thee to the sky, 

In substance what, in strength how great ? 
When was it wrought ? and why create 
A link whose substance some deny ? 

Still more I ask : whence comest thou ? 

Now hold thy peace ; I question fair. 

If able, unto me declare 

Where first thou dwelt, where dwellest now. 

A friend sincere I’ve always been, 

Would gratify thy least desire ; 

Yet know not I, if earth or fire 
Thou art ; indeed, if anything. 

My guest art thou for many years ; 

I love thee, too, thou unknown twin ; 

But when I ask, what hast thou been, 

Thou shouldst not grieve, and shed these tears. 

Know’st thou the Power that said, “ be light” ? 
Or bound within thy narrow shell, 

Contemplates thou both heaven and hell, 

And how to live and pray aright ? 

What power strange up yonder tree 
The sap through every fibre sends ? 

What unknown force such power lends, 

To earth, to heaven, to sky and sea ? 

What are the bounds of nature’s space ? 

Where ends the manifested power 
Of Him who o’er creation’s face 
Did brood, ere was thy natal hour ? 

Ah, yes ! much more I’d ask thee, guest, 

But I for present time forbear ; 

Thy anxious look and pain I’ll share, 

And till the morrow let thee rest. 

I do not know thee, who thou art ? 

And more, I’m ignorant of myse’f ; 

Of things below, e’en though but pelf, 
Uncertain, too ; yet love to mark — 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


53 


Th’ unfolding flower, the budding tree, 

The march of time, th’ expanding soul, 

The atom, molecule, the whole, 

E’en though thou ne’er canst answer me. 

One year from the composition of this poem, I had fin- 
ished my course in theology, and was ready to enter on the 
work of the ministry. My restless mind, however, was not 
quieted ; for, while I did not really disbelieve, I neverthe- 
less had many doubts concerning the inspiration of the 
Scriptures, the genuineness of miracles, the story of the fall 
of man, vicarious atonement, eternal damnation, and salva- 
tion by faith. In theological study, all these questions are 
taken up and discussed, and an attempt made to establish 
them , but the attempt is a failure, and the discussion, sat- 
isfactory to nobody. With all my scepticism, I did not think 
I felt any more uncertain about the groundwork of my faith 
than a host of other young ministers with whom I had been 
associating. As far as I could understand, the difference 
between me and them was not that they had any more faith 
in those things than myself, but that they hushed up their 
fears, while I gave vent to them. Yet knowing that the 
morals of Christianity did not depend on its dogmas, and 
that the regenerating power contained in the teachings of 
the Sermon on the Mount, had no connection with them, I 
thought it proper, and believed I was in duty bound, to be 
a minister of Christ. I did not as yet know, what I since 
have learned, that it is dogmas rather than truth or reason, 
which the churches seek to enforce. 

On Sunday morning, May 28th, at the invitation of the 
minister, the Rev. Mr Tubbs, I preached in the Methodist 
Episcopal church at Eudoxia. As far as I could learn, the 
sermon was very well appreciated. A few, however, the min- 
ister being among the number, considered it a little too 
rational, a little too scientific. 


54 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


As had been my custom during my former visits, so during 
this visit, I preached, when invited to do so, both to the peo- 
ple of Eudoxia, and to those of the surrounding towns. I 
can never forget the discourse I delivered at Eudoxia, Tune 
15th, 1875, based on the words, “There shall be no more 
death.” Often after that would the lovely, loving Aggie, 
ask me to repeat this sermon. It gave her such joy and 
gladness to think of a time when death should be no more. 
And what human soul does not like to think of such a time ? 
Who does not find pleasure in hoping for a place beyond 
the grave, where those who have fallen away into the dark- 
ness, and have long since been hidden from our straining 
eyes, shall reappear clothed in light and immortality ? This 
hope I pray God may never die in my breast. Rather may 
it grow stronger and stronger, ever drawing me there 
whither our loved ones are gone before, until I, too, shall 
rest, strong in the happy expectation of meeting them, and 
parting no more forever. 

Agnes had been brought up in the Church of England, 
in Canada; though for some years previous to our marriage, 
she had been a member of what is known as the Bible Chris- 
tian Church. I was a member of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, and had concluded to serve in its ministry. As 
yet, however, I was not ordained; but since ordination, in 
the Methodist Episcopal Church, is neither necessary nor 
permitted until after a probationary period, I was able to 
prove, to my own satisfaction, whether the ministry of that 
church would be agreeable to me, before I should be com- 
pelled to assume the obligations of such ministry, or take 
upon myself its promises. If such work should prove agree- 
able, I would give it an earnest life, and all my powers; if 
not agreeable, I would seek elsewhere an honest living. In 
this spirit I looked anxiously for a field of labor, hopefully, 
faithfully, prayerfully; ready to go anywhere I might be 


GRADUATION AND MARRIAGE. 


55 


sent, and more especially where men were most needed, 
whether in a land of plenty or a wilderness of want; and in 
this spirit did the beautiful Aggie join me; for nothing could 
give her so much peace, as the belief that she was where God 
would have her be. Gentle and lovely, her smile seemed a 
light from heaven ; her whole being, the temple of the 
living God. With such a wife labor is ease, and pain is 
sweet. 

We had no relations from whom we might expect favors 
in settling us in a desirable place; scarcely had we friends. 
We both had faith in the living God, that He would lead us; 
and that wherever He might lead us, would be well. I had 
not yet lost all faith in the superstition, that “ The voice of 
the church is the voice of God.” We would often repeat 
the following little poem, which we found in a periodical, as 
beautifully expressive of our minds : 

“ Any little corner, Lord, within thy vineyard wide, 

Where Thou bidst me work for Thee, there would I abide; 

Miracle of saving grace, that Thou givest me a place 

Anywhere. 

Where we pitch our nightly tent, surely matters not, 

If the day for Thee is spent, blessed is the spot. 

Quickly we the tent may fold, cheerful march through storm and cold, 

With thy care, anywhere. 

All along the wilderness let us keep our sight 
On the moving pillar fixed, constant day and night, 

Willing led by Thee to roam 

Anywhere.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE WORK BEGUN. 

While in the Seminary my attention had been called to 
the wants of the church in the state of Kansas ; and shortly 
after my coming to Eudoxia, I corresponded with a bishop 
in the east concerning the propriety of my going there. He 
answered my letter very fully, and spoke of a church in the 
city of Stolzville, needing a pastor, advising me at the same 
time to write the presiding elder. Having addressed the 
latter concerning the matter, I received an answer to the 
effect that the vacant church in Stolzville had been for some 
time filled. While unable to invite me to Stolzville, the pre- 
siding elder urged me to come to Kansas, filling his letter 
with the most glowing accounts of that wonderful country. 
The advantages to be had, he said, in coming there were 
very many ; the climate was unequalled, the people were 
reaching out their hands, and the possibilities for the min- 
ister could not be surpassed. Shortly afterwards I received 
a letter from another presiding elder who resided at River- 
ton, Kansas, offering me, as he said, the choice of two very 
desirable appointments. 

At first Agnes was very unwilling to go so far west ; but 
after a little persuasion, she consented, hoping, like myself, 
that the voice that called us was the voice of God. Were 
not men and women hungry for a nobler life ? Was there 
not a cry heard for teachers to go and instruct them ? Was 
it not the church that called us ? Yes, we would go, and do 
whatever our hands might find to do. 

On Tuesday, July 25th, 1876, we left Eudoxia for our 
56 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


57 


western work. Thursday morning we spent at the parson- 
age of the Methodist minister in one of the principal cities 
of the state of Kansas. The minister and his wife were 
ready to give us every assistance in their power ; and the 
former supplied us with not a little amusement by cracking 
nuts for us to eat, at the same time aiding digestion by tell- 
ing the most laughable jokes. Leaving the residence of this 
hospitable minister, we arrived a few hours afterwards in the 
city of Riverton, late in the evening. The next morning was 
very beautiful ; and it was indeed a magnificent sight that 
met our gaze. Vast plains stretched away as far as the eye 
could see ; standing fields of tall corn indicated the richness 
of the soil ; and a beautiful stream of water bespoke other 
possible industries. The town was on a level, and was noted 
for its cleanliness and beauty. The elder was a man some- 
what advanced in years, and of a very jolly disposition. He 
received us most kindly, and insisted on our staying as the 
guests of himself and wife, until Saturday night ; at which 
time we were to go to the residence of Mrs. Kindheart who 
had begged us to remain with her a few days. 

While at the residence of the elder, I had learned that he 
had broken his promise to me. He had promised me my 
choice of the two vacant appointments ; but he had already 
filled the better of the two. When I asked the elder for an 
explanation of this, his excuse was that he knew which was 
the better of the two appointments, and had according to his 
promise reserved it for me. The judgment of the Methodist 
minister and many others who knew the both appointments, 
did not agree with that of the presiding elder ; for they 
insisted that the best appointment had been filled a little be- 
fore my arrival. Being a stranger in a strange land, I 
thought it best to make no remonstrance ; but in my heart I 
thought the elder’s action a dishonorable one. 

In due time the Methodist minister called upon us, and 


5 « 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


since we were to remain in Riverton a few days, he kindly 
invited me to fill his pulpit on the coming Sunday. This I 
did to the best of my ability, Sunday, July 30. 

Mrs. Kindheart whose guests we were, was a lady of cul- 
tivated tastes, and most jovial disposition. She was extremely 
corpulent, and when she laughed, she laughed all over. We 
had never been more generously entertained than by this 
lady who seemed always hunting for something new to make 
us cheerful and happy. One evening, shortly after we had 
come to this good lady’s house, Aggie came running to me 
and said : “O do come, Harry, quickly ! and you will see 
something the like of which you never saw before, and 
which you will not likely see again.” I followed her into 
the sitting-room, and there saw two very old and haggard- 
looking women seemingly in hot dispute over their youthful 
flirtations, the one claiming to have had more success than 
the other. After the younger people had laughed till laugh- 
ing was painful, one of the two old ladies said, “ Come ! that 
will do ; we have made of ourselves fools enough. Let the 
younger folks equal that if they can, or forever hereafter 
hold their peace.” They had taken out their false teeth, 
taken off their false hair, made themselves as ugly as possi- 
ble, and castoff all reserve for the entertainment of the com- 
pany. It was indeed a sight such as I had never seen 
before, nor ever expect to see again. One lady of the com- 
pany was a laughable sight, being absolutely a mass of 
flesh almost without form. She was about five feet three 
inches tall, and would weigh not less than four hundred 
pounds. Her neck, short by nature, was made to appear 
still more short by the very fleshy condition of the shoulders 
and bust. Indeed, the head upon her shoulders appeared 
not unlike a hen sitting in her nest — almost covered up by 
the surroundings. 

Tuesday morning, August 1st, we left Riverton, and set 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


59 


out for our field of labor. I was full of work, and we both 
were full of hope ; for neither of us could doubt that all 
things would be well. Besides, the presiding elder had as- 
sured us over and over that a very hearty welcome was 
awaiting us where we were going. “ When you arrive at 
Micropolis,” he said, “you will find good brother Truthful 
waiting at the depot for you. He has made all arrange- 
ments, and everything will be satisfactory.” We were not 
long in going to Micropolis, the principal town in my charge. 
We found the depot in its place ; but the “ good brother ” 
who was to receive us, was not on hand. After making 
some inquiries for Mr. Truthful, we found him without diffi- 
culty. He was greatly surprised to hear that he was ex- 
pected to meet us at the depot. “ I assure you,” he said, 
“ this is the first I have known of your coming.” 

I had stated in my letters to the presiding elder that 
wherever I went, it was necessary that room and board 
should be provided for myself and wife ; and the elder had 
given me to understand that this matter had been provided 
for. Mr. Truthful, however, had heard nothing of it, nor 
could he think of any place in the town where acceptable 
board and room could be had. “ All that I can do for you, 
Mr. Bray,” he said, “ you may rely upon it, I shall do ; I 
will go with you now, and see what can be done.” At first 
we went to the residence of a good Methodist, a Mrs. Lov- 
ease, who said : “ I would be so glad to have you with us, 

Mr. Bray ; nothing could be more pleasing than the com- 
pany of yourself and wife ; but my house is already full and 
running over.” We then went to the house of Mrs. Dogood 
who was not a member of any church, but had enough 
humanity in her to invite us to stay and take dinner. “ Al- 
though I have no spare room in my house, and am unable 
to have the pleasure of taking you to board with us, I must 
insist on your taking dinner with me, especially as it is so 


6o 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


near dinner hour.” For the sake of Aggie I was more than 
glad to accept this kind invitation. 

After dinner we continued our search for room and board, 
but no acceptable place could be found except at the small 
hotel ; and there the charges were so high, that I feared my 
expected income would not enable me to assume the respon- 
sibility of paying the bills. Having failed in our search, Mr. 
Truthful pressed us to come and stay with him for a few 
days, or until some other arrangement could be made. We felt 
he was sincere in making the invitation, and we gladly ac- 
cepted it. He was a well-to-do farmer, and resided 
about a mile from the town. Mrs. Truthful was a most 
kind-hearted woman ; one who for the sake of her guests, 
would submit to great discomfort without a murmur. But 
such a nature is the last in the world we could impose upon. 
After a good supper and prayers with the family, we retired. 
Then it was that we were pained ; for the room assigned us 
was that of Mr. and Mrs. Truthful. We both felt that we 
could not with propriety remain in a house where we put 
the people to such manifest inconvenience, and we de- 
termined not to do so. Being very tired, we soon fell 
asleep ; but about mid-night I awoke, feeling all on fire. 
Springing out of the bed, I lit a lamp, and saw to my horror 
that the pillow upon which my weary head had lain, was 
swarming with bed-bugs. I can not well describe my feel- 
ings. It was one of fright even more than of disgust. The 
first time I had ever seen these pests, was in July, 1864, in 
the city of Detroit, Michigan. I can never forget that night. 
I got out of bed, fearing I should be eaten alive. The balance 
of that night I passed sitting in a chair. From that time to 
this I have been unable to muster courage enough to face a 
bed-bug. It is not strange, therefore, to know of my horror 
when, in the house of Mr. Truthful, I beheld the place I 
needed most, in full possession of my most dreaded enemy. 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


61 

1 could not think of returning to bed ; for I knew well that 
no man could be a more pitiable sight than I should be, 
after a night’s exposure to the ravages of these filthy pests. 
For the rest of the night I sat in the chair, pondering over 
our circumstances, and wondering how to find an excuse for 
leaving Mr. Truthful’s, without giving offence ; for I de- 
termined not to stay there another night, such was my dread 
of repeating that night’s experience. 

After breakfast I informed our hosts of the necessity of 
our having a permanent boarding-place. I had to preach, 
and therefore needed my books ; and books could not be 
set up and taken down every day ; therefore some kind of a 
permanent place must be had. I told them we could never 
forget their kindness ; but even apart from the necessity of 
seeking immediately some permanent place to board and 
room, we felt sure that our remaining there must inconven- 
ience the family. They replied that they were very willing to 
accommodate us, that we were very welcome to such as they 
had. To which I answered : “Mr. Truthful, I am sure 
you speak the truth, and your kindness will ever be remem- 
bered ; but Mrs. Truthful has no servant, nor is she very 
strong; besides, you can not accommodate us without dis- 
commoding yourselves ; and this we are unwilling to see 
done.” “ I am sorry,” said Mr. Truthful, “that we are no 
better prepared to entertain you, Mr. Bray, and sorry that 
things are as they are, all around. If the elder had acquainted 
me of your coming in time, I am sure something could have 
been done. This is shameful treatment that you and your 
wife are receiving ; but I shall see if nothing better can be 
done. However, I have no great expectations from this 
people, Mr. Bray ; I have had them too often already, only 
to be bitterly disappointed. The people here are quite wil- 
ling to have a minister among them ; but they are equally 


62 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


willing that others should assume all the responsiblity of 
looking to his support and welfare.” 

“ VVe are not discouraged, Mr. Truthful,” I said. “We 
can not believe but that all will soon be right, when we have 
such a noble soul to help us as yourself. If we can not find 
accommodations here, we will proceed to Littlpville.” 

After a search of an hour or two, we found very good 
rooms at the residence of Mrs. Lowlife, and we were making 
preparations to go there ; when, woe to us! some of the good 
church members came hastening, and said : “ We would ad- 
vise you not to go there. It will ruin you, and disgrace the 
church. That woman has a very bad reputation. We 
would be the last in the world to say anything about 
it, but feel it our duty for the sake of the church to put you 
on your guard. We are sure if you go there, you will give 
unpardonable offence to the people of the church.” 

Thus ended our last attempt, and with that the hope of 
finding accommodations in the town of Micropolis. Among 
all the members of the church, there was not found one who 
could accommodate us with rooms and board, and none of 
them offered us a night’s shelter except Mr. Truthful. 
Strangers we were in a strange land, homeless among our 
own ; and no man said, “come tarry thou with me.” I was 
heart-sick ; but the thought of Aggie and her presence, 
would have revived me though dying. 

Having resolved to proceed to Littleville, I hastened to a 
livery-stable in search of a conveyance ; but none could be 
had. Nothing was now left us but to walk to Littleville, a 
distance of four miles. It was Wednesday afternoon, and 
the day was exceedingly hot. Four miles over a burning, 
sandy road, was not a little undertaking for me ; could Ag- 
gie dare undertake it ? With me this was a serious question, 
but with her it was settled in a moment : “ If you go, I shall 
go with you,” she said. “ I shall not remain behind in 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


63 


Riverton. Besides, I can walk four miles easy enough. 
Should you go without me, I should be full of fears about 
you ; but going with you, I shall have no fears at all.” 

“ Aggie,” I said, “the way to Littleville is strange to us, 
and it is uncertain that we can find accommodations there. 
You stay here, darling. Should I be unsuccessful in getting 
accommodations, I will return after sun-down.” 

“ You can’t cheat your Sunshine, Harry. If the way is 
strange to me, it is equally strange to you; if you can return 
after sun-down, I can return with you. Please, don’t ask 
me to remain behind you. To make the journey, hard as it 
may be, will be a pleasure to me when I am by your side ; 
but to remain here alone, would be an unbearable pain.” 

No man can withstand the pleading voice of a beautiful, 
lovely woman ; for my part I wo ( uld never wish to. We set 
out together for the hoped-for resting place, leaving every- 
thing at the house of Mr. Truthful, except Aggie’s satchel. 
Taking this in my hand, we slowly made our way down to 
the banks of the murmuring stream. We had never before 
walked by its gurgling waters, nor seen the feathered tribe 
moisten their vocal organs with its pearly drops to sing their 
songs of joy. As we heard their hymns of praise, we re- 
called the words of him who said : “ The foxes have their 

holes, and the birds of the air their nests ; but the Son of 
Man hath not where to lay his head.” The weather had 
been for a long time dry, and the water was, therefore, very 
low ; so we found but little difficulty in crossing this stream, 
Aggie stepping on large stones. We had travelled about a 
mile when Aggie said : “I hope we shan’t miss our way, 
and be left to pass the night under the stars ; yet even this 
would be preferable to the reception Kansas has given us.” 

“ You are right, Sunshine ; but cheer up. I hope we 
shall find a better place to pass the night, than on the mat- 
tress of a prairie-chicken. You must not forget your name. 


6 4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE,. 


I christened you ‘ Sunshine,’ long before we were married. 
With your light and heat, I am not afraid ; but if you fail to 
pour that light upon me, I shall have no power to bring forth 
any fruit. Shine on, my Sun, shine on. Scatter thy clouds, 
and shed thy bright beams upon me.” 

“ I often think, Harry, I am more like a comet than a sun, 
I am so subject to change ; nor can I think why you could 
have called me such a name, when you knew well that I al- 
ways followed in your orbit, powerless to do otherwise.” 

“ When I found that, away from your presence, I died, 
and in your presence, lived, I concluded rightly enough 
that my life depended on the healing beams received from 
you ; I, therefore, thought of you as my sun, and gave you 
the name of ‘ Sunshine.’ Was this not a sufficient reason?” 

“ See, Harry ! here are two roads. Which do we take ? 
One goes through the corn-fields, and the other across the 
prairie.” 

“ Since neither of us knows anything about the way, I 
presume we are both equally certain ; but let us take this 
one over the prairie. It is at least easier to travel.” 

Walking along for a short distance, we met an old woman 
and a boy riding on a wagon. “ Madam,” I asked, “ are we 
on the right way to Littleville ? ” 

“ Lord ! no, sir ; you must go back and take the road 
leading through that yer corn-field. It is a mighty hot day 
for sich folks to walk to Littleville. If I hadn’t a heap 
of work to do to-day, I would drive over with you ; but ain’t 
got no time now.” 

“ Thank you, madam ; we’ll manage to get along,” I said. 

Retracing our steps, we soon found ourselves passing 
through the most luxuriant corn, ten to twelve feet high. 
Being very hungry I appeased my appetite by eating some 
ears, as we travelled on. 

“ Harry, I wonder are we ever going to come to Little- 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


65 


ville. This is the longest four miles, I ever travelled. When 
we started they told us it was four miles ; after travelling 
an hour, that woman told us it was three. It seems to me 
the miles out here are like men’s consciences. What is 
that ? ” 

“ I do not know, Sunshine ; but I know you are tired. I 
presume the distance is no more than four miles ; but it is 
always thus with tired feet. You have never known the day 
you could walk many miles, much less are you able to do so 
under this burning sun. Listen ! I guess that is what you 
heard just now. Is not that the sound of a river ? It seems 
to me so. Surely a Jordan does not roll between us and the 
Promised Land ! ” 

“ If so, Harry, it will be hard to say which to do, go into 
the overwhelming waters, or surrender to Pharoah and his 
host. But there is your Jordan, and a big one it is. I fear 
in our case the fiat is gone forth : ‘ Ye shall not go over 

thither.’ We may have a time watching the stars to-night. 
Wouldn’t it be fun ! We should never forget it.” 

There rolled the river in its peaceful bed, shaded by tall, 
overhanging trees. No bridge was visible. What was to 
be done? The river was wide but apparently shallow ; so 
I determined to lose no time in trying its depths. Drawing 
off my shoes, stockings and trousers, I began to wade across 
the stream, carrying my clothing in my arms. I found the 
stream about eighty or ninety feet wide, and from one to 
three deep. I returned for the most precious burden a 
human being could bear, my wife, my Sunshine. Taking 
her in my arms, I waded across as before, though progress 
was much slower, and to my feet most painful, walking over 
a pebbly bottom, with a hundred and twenty-five pounds in 
my arms. As I reached the other side, and almost unwill- 
ingly laid my precious burden down, she kissed me, and 
said : “ What a precious Harry you are ! ” 

5 


66 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Having crossed the stream, it was but a short time before 
we were in the little village of Littleville, knocking at the 
door of the residence of the person whom we sought. “Does 
Mr. Blossom live here ?”I asked the lady who opened the 
door. 

“ Yes, sir ; Mr. Blossom lives here. Do you want to see 
him ? Iam Mrs. Blossom.” 

“ I am very glad to have the pleasure of knowing you, 
Mrs. Blossom. I am the Methodist minister newly appoint- 
ed to this charge, and this is my wife. We have been told 
we might have board and accommodations at your house. 
If so, we shall be glad to stay with you, paying whatever 
you think is right. We had hoped to live in Micropolis, but 
could not find acceptable accommodations there.” 

“ Come right in, sir ; I will call Mr. Blossom ; but who 
brought you up here ? ” 

“We came up, Mrs. Blossom,” said Aggie, “ in a first- 
class conveyance, namely, on our own feet.” 

“ What ! Do you mean to say that you, you poor child, 
have walked it from Micropolis here ? ” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Blossom, she has ; and she is very tired.” 

“ Poor thing ! She looks as pale as a ghost. Go right 
into that room, Mrs. Bray, and freshen yourself up; while I 
call Blossom, and get you a little something to eat.” 

At the call of his wife, Mr. Blossom soon made his ap- 
pearance. He was a tall, muscular man, quite advanced in 
years, and appeared quite glad to see us. 

Soon we were all seated at a small table, enjoying a com- 
fortable meal composed largely of vegetables. While at the 
table, it was decided that we should remain with them, at a 
cost of five dollars a week for board and one small room. 

At the table Job’s comforter came : “ The preacher who 

preceded you,” said Mr. Blossom, “was an unmarried man. 
He was just the kind of a man for this place, for he was 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


67 


able to rough it. Still he didn’t take very well. They call- 
ed him ‘ Wild Bill.’ He used to preach with his coat off, 
and his sleeves rolled up, and a sash around his waist. 
When he left, the poor fellow didn’t give us a farewell ser- 
mon. In fact, nobody knew that he was going, he left in 
such a hurry. This haste in leaving was the cause, I sup- 
pose, of his forgetting to pay his board-bill ; and I reckon 
he is too busy heralding the Gospel to remember such little 
trifles now. Previous to the coming of ‘ Wild Bill,’ a mar- 
ried preacher had charge here. This fellow’s father was 
well fixed, lived near here, and was his main support. At 
the commencement of his work, the father gave him a nice 
pair of ponies, and a buggy to get around in. This preacher 
used to hold forth pretty good; but somehow he didn’t take, 
although he had a nice little woman. One of the members, 
knowing that the minister’s wife didn’t like squash, carried 
him a whole load as quarterage. After he drove away, the 
preacher and his wife, looking at the wagon-load of squash, 
burst into tears. At the end of the year, notwithstanding 
his father’s help, he was forced to leave for want of support, 
and to sell his ponies and buggy, to have money to get 
away with. I believe he left a few debts, but that’s to be 
expected ; it’s about the only marks a preacher leaves be- 
hind him, in this country, to prove he’s ever been here. 
Preaching out here doesn’t appear to be a very flourishing 
business. A good many take to it, and for a time carry 
around their goods ; but, take my word for it, the people 
won’t invest. I don’t know how this thing is ; may be they 
found it didn’t pay in the east. I assure you, Mr. Bray, I 
am not saying this to discourage you ; I’d be the last to do 
that. You know, I’m a member of the church myself ; but, 
then, I don’t go to church, for the reason that I let the 
good brethren fight it out among themselves ; and it’s just 


68 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


as good as a circus sometimes to see them at it. On the 
whole, Mr. Bray, you are come to a pretty tough place.” 

These remarks were poor sauce for our dinner, but we had 
to use it ; though it made our meal of herbs almost indiges- 
tible. In my heart I wished I had never seen Kansas ; but 
I could not be long despondent with Aggie by my side to 
ease my burdens with her love, smooth my way by treading 
it with me, and scatter my gloom with the effulgent rays of 
her own radiant soul. So I determined to try hard to suc- 
ceed. 

Sunday, August 6th, I began my work. In the morning 
I preached at Micropolis, choosing as my text the words, 
“ Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; ” in the evening, at 
Little ville, from the words, “ If I wash thee not, thou hast 
no part with me.” At each point the audience was good, 
and composed of representatives of numerous Christian 
bodies, the YVinibrennarians being most largely represented. 

At the end of the day I was very tired, not less from 
walking more than ten miles, than from the labor attending 
the services ; yet the hope of doing good and of better 
times, strengthened me to bear with our disagreeable 
circumstances ; but I felt greatly disappointed with my 
charge. 

Sunday, August 13th, I preached in the morning at Lit- 
tleville, in the afternoon at Hibernia, and in the evening at 
Micropolis. This involved a journey of thirty miles on 
horseback. The close of the day found me excessively 
weary, and not a little suspicious of my adaptation to the 
people and place. Tired as I was, after I had finished the 
sermon, and dismissed the congregation, I had to travel to 
Littleville, a distance of four miles, in as dark a night as I 
ever knew. Through the thick darkness I groped my way, 
cheered by the consciousness that very soon I should be in 
the presence of Aggie. One bridge I had crossed; but yet 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


69 


another was to come much more dangerous than that. The 
ties of the former were spanned by boards, but the ties of 
this were not spanned; and underneath them ran a roaring 
torrent of water swollen to such a degree from the late rains, 
that it threatened to carry away the whole structure. The 
intense darkness, and the roar of the torrent below, made me 
hesitate, tremble ; and the frequent flashes of the vivid 
lighning, made the scene still more appalling. I could not 
see where to step, and one false step would hurl me into 
the flood beneath. What then would poor Aggie do ! The 
thought made my head swim, and to prevent myself from 
falling, I crossed a part of the bridge on my hands and 
knees. Again and again in my heart did I rebel against the 
work I had to do, and as often did I say: “ It is my 
Father’s hand that leadeth me, and He doeth all things 
well. Through the darkness He will bring me to the 
light.” 

When I arrived at Littleville, our hosts had gone to bed; 
but Aggie, wild with fear, stood in the window, gazing in 
the direction I was to come, and trying to pierce the gloom 
to discover my approach. Her joy at my arrival can be 
better imagined than described. “ O my love ! my darling 
love ! ” she cried, “your Sunshine thought she would shine 
no more. I felt sure you had fallen through the bridge, it 
was so pitch-dark. I fancied I could see your form car- 
ried down the stream, and all I could do, was to wring my 
hands in despair. Oh, how I thank God you are come! ” 

Sunday, August 20th, I preached in the morning at 
Smith’s, from St. James, iii, 13. The little house was more 
than full. After service here, I set out on horseback for 
Corntown; but on my way a drenching rain came on, wet- 
ting me through and through. The thunder was so loud 
and the lightning so fierce, that my horse became almost 
unmanageable. In addition to this, I lost my way, going 


7o 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


about three miles beyond the preaching-point. When I 
finally arrived, the people had come and gone, supposing 
from the lateness of the hour, that I was not coming. 

From Corntown I rode to Micropolis, but it continued 
raining so violently that no service could be held there. 

That night I was unable to return to Littleville. The 
long ride of from twenty-five to thirty miles, most of it 
through drenching rain, made me so tired that any resting- 
place was acceptable. 

The wife of the gentleman at whose house I passed the 
night, held some very peculiar religious views. In the morn- 
ing said the husband to me: “I guess you found my wife a 
rum one, elder; didn’t you?” 

“ Your wife, sir, has some strange ideas; but in such 
matters, it is better to be liberal. It may be in the near 
future she will modify her belief.” 

“ Not a bit of it, elder, she’ll stick to her trumps, though 
every player leaves the table; and, for my part, I think she’s 
right about it. Since there are so many denominations, I 
see no reason why she can’t have one; so I say to her, ‘ go 
ahead; set up your church, and make me its bishop.’ I tell 
you, elder, she’s a good one. You’ll do a heap of good by 
talking to her. I guess you’d better use your powder and 
shot on more paying game.” 

On my return in the morning to Littleville, I found Aggie 
almost distracted with fear. She suspected I had fallen into 
the river, or been struck by lightning, or met some other 
dire misfortune. Dear girl ! What a lovely creature she 
was ! Glad was I that her fears were groundless, and that 
once more I stood in the presence of her who seemed to me 
the very gate of heaven. 

Monday, August 21st, we left the Blossoms’ for a visit to 
Mr. and Mrs. Soulless, who, the previous day, had given us 
a pressing invitation. They were very respectable farmers, 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


71 


had a plenty of room, scarcely any family, and an abundance 
of this world’s goods. Mr. Smith kindly came for us in his 
light wagon. We found the journey most difficult to make, 
owing to the swollen state of the river; but after much 
delay and unusual precaution on the part of the driver, we 
were safely brought to the home of our hosts. 

At Littleville I made the acquaintance of Mr. Muchtalk: 
“ I left the city of Philadelphia some years ago,” said he, 
“ and came out west, hoping to find better health. I used 
to preach often in the east, and had not been long here be- 
fore they induced me to take charge of this circuit. The 
first year I labored almost night and day, and tried every 
way to build up the work. Constantly exposed to all kinds 
of weather, my health broke entirely down, and at the end 
of the year I was forced to resign the work. All I received 
of this people for my whole year’s labor, was sixty dollars. 
I tell you, Mr. Bray, you may expect what you will, but I’m 
sure you’ll not receive from this circuit the one-half of 
what you expect. This may dishearten you, but it’s God’s 
truth.” 

“But, Mr. Muchtalk, the elder has guaranteed me 
what I said.” 

“ As to guarantees, Mr. Bray, I suppose they are worth 
as much as the elder that made them; but I assure you such 
things count for little out in this country.” 

“It may be so, Mr. Muchtalk; yet I can but hope that 
matters will not be as bad as you predict.” 

“ Faith is a good thing, when one has the loaves and fishes, 
Mr. Bray; but in my experience I have never seen the man 
who could remove a mountain, even though it were no big- 
ger than a grain of mustard seed.” 

Sunday, August 27th, the sun arose in all its strength, 
scattering its heat and life throughout the length and breadth 
of the vast, rolling prairie. On this day Mr. Smith, a kind 


72 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


and good man, consented to take me to my different appoint- 
ments, my wife accompanying me for the first time. At 
eight o’clock in the morning we sprang into the little buggy 
drawn by two fleet and pretty ponies, and started for the 
field of labor. Mr. Smith was not acquainted with the way, 
and my own knowledge of it was very imperfect, having 
been over it only once before. However, after two or three 
miles of round-about driving, we arrived at Brown’s, where 
I preached to a very respectable audience. 

Seven miles more would bring us to Hibernia, my next 
appointment. On our way there, we took dinner at the 
house of one of the principal church-members, a dinner 
composed largely of vegetables and a wonderful preserve 
made, as the good lady of the house informed me, by boil- 
ing tomatoes in molasses. As I ate it, I hoped that the re- 
cipe for its preparation would be forgotten by the next gen- 
eration. It was nearly black, and had to me a very disa- 
greeable taste. With the color of this rare preserve, the 
table-cloth and the walls of the dining-room seemed to per- 
fectly correspond. So this good church-member was not 
only religious, but she had, as we see, an eye to unity and 
conformity. 

Leaving this house of the good Samaritan, we hurried on 
to Hibernia. On our way we came upon some wild plums 
which, after our rather indigestible dinner, we ate with a 
relish. We were glad at having such delicious dessert to 
banish from our palate the taste of the pitchy composite we 
had just been compelled to swallow. 

The meeting at Hibernia was a great success, the house 
being crowded, and the audience in full sympathy with the 
speaker. The services opened with the singing of the well 
known hymn, “A charge to keep I have”; and, surely, 
such a discordant, rasping clamor was never before heard. 
Aggie afterwards said it was like the sharpening of ten thous- 




THE WORK BEGUN. 73 

and saws all at once. At the close of the sermon, which was 
based upon the words: “ Escape thee to the mountain, es- 
cape for thy life, lest thou perish,” the principal members 
thanked me for the discourse, and promised to raise a large 
portion of my salary, if I would continue preaching to them 
every alternate Sunday. At the same time they gave me the 
largest collection I received of any congregation in my 
charge. I could not help regarding such a people favora- 
bly, uncouth and ignorant as they evidently were. 

From Hibernia we drove on to Micropolis, our last ap- 
pointment for the day. Here I preached from the words, 
“ Behold I have spoken to you from heaven.” The audi- 
ence was a large one, and most attentive. 

After the discourse, I spoke plainly of the condition of 
things, — of what I thought must be done, provided they 
wished me to remain with them. “You know, my dear 
friends,” I said, “that I have no conveyance to take me 
from one point to another. I hardly think that any of you 
can expect me to invest myself in a horse and buggy to do 
the work in a circuit, where I am not certain of receiving 
enough even for the bare necessities of life. I put the 
question to you as business men. Who of you would be 
willing to make such an investment on similar hopes of re- 
turn ? I am willing to live with you, work for you, and die 
with you; but I am not willing, and will never consent, to 
go in debt, while striving to build you up. I can not, there- 
fore, any more than you would in my place, buy with my 
own means the conveyance necessary for this work. One 
thing more : I am not willing to go in debt for my board, 
nor to leave this place, should I be obliged to do so, with 
one cent of debt behind me. I am willing, therefore, to stay 
with you, without any stipulated salary, provided you agree 
with the person at whose house I may board and room, to 
pay the bills thus incurred. Briefly, the case is thus: If you 


74 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


will provide me with board and proper accommodations 
for myself and wife, and with means to travel from one 
point to another, I will remain with you, without any further 
promised salary; if you can not do this, I must leave you. 
I shall expect a definite answer to this proposition in a few 
days. You must, gentlemen, do what you think best in the 
premises.” 

After the service they begged me not to think of leaving. 
One man who hitherto had given scarcely anything toward 
church-work, offered thirty dollars a year toward my sup- 
port. Mr. Truthful said: “We’ve got you here now, and 
you must not leave us. The people never came to preach- 
ing before, as they do now; and our hopes were never so 
bright, as at present. Last night I scarcely slept thinking 
of you, and how best to manage this work. I knew we had 
a man with us now, who was capable of building us up, and 
that he was talking of leaving. The more I thought over 
the matter, the more it seemed to me, your leaving would be 
a terrible blow to all our expectations. I do hope some- 
thing may be done to hold you here; I’m sure I’m ready to 
do my part.” 

I replied : “lam sure of that, Mr. Truthful, from what 
you have already done for me. But I think you can not 
but see the justice and wisdom of what I have just said. 
Should I stay, I know well that such as you would make my 
burdens a part of your own ; but I can not see you crushed 
with such a disproportionate care for my welfare. If the 
people want me, they must do their part ; for whether for 
weal or woe, I will not stay otherwise. In this matter, Mr. 
Truthful, I must and will be independent. I’m glad I said 
what I said. Let the people decide. It will be better for 
both you and me. You must cheer up. If I go away, you 
will have no bitter regrets. You have done nobly, for which 
I thank you. And, don’t forget, if you have no preacher 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


75 


here, such a man as you can worship God in your own 
home, for you carry Him about with you in your heart, the 
real temple where God delights to dwell.” 

“ Seven miles more, Sunshine,” I said, “and we shall be 
at our resting-place. You must be very tired, riding all day; 
are you not ? ” 

“ O no ! It has been one of the happiest days of my 
whole life. And what a pleasure it has been to me, to know 
that I have been by your side ! Besides, Harry, it helps one 
to be somewhat reconciled to living in such a place as this, 
when he sees how eager the people are to hear the truth. I 
think the congregation at Hibernia did nobly. If only your 
other people would do as well as they, there would be no 
trouble about our getting along in this place. It is true, I 
shall never forget their horrid singing; but when I think of 
that, I shall also remember their earnestness and generosity. 
If I could have a circuit composed wholly of such folks, I 
would not care if it were in the wilderness, I would like to 
be a preacher myself ; but if I’m not a preacher, I’m a 
preacher’s wife, and that’s the next thing to it ; isn’t it, 
Harry ? ” 

“ No, Sunshine ; I think not. You are not the next thing 
to a preacher, but a thousand things ahead of him. I would 
rather have one Sunshine than all the preachers in Kansas ; 
and even if you add to these all those in the Holy Land, I 
still prefer you. If you want to, you can take the preachers. 
For my part, I would rather listen to one of your sermons, 
than hear all the preachers’ harangues ever delivered.” 

“ Harry, you are always full of your naughty thoughts. I 
am afraid you’ll never lose your mischievous spirit.” 

About this time the grasshoppers filled the country. 
They looked, when flying under a bright sun, like falling 
snow-flakes. They devoured everything green in their way ; 
filled the houses, and made the water almost undrinkable. 


76 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


They would, strange to say, eat even what tobacco-chewers 
call, an “ old quid.” 

It was on Thursday of this week that I first shot a 
prairie-chicken. These birds served to supply the families 
with most of their fresh meat. They are very palatable, 
more so, I think, than domestic fowls. 

September 3rd, I preached in the morning at Smith's, in 
the afternoon at Corntown, and in the evening at Micropo- 
lis. At the latter place my subject was, “ The Divine Gov- 
ernment,” and it was based upon Neh. ix, 13 ; Rev. xix, 6. 

The room at Micropolis was very full, the air overheated, 
and charged with the odor of tobacco. Being almost 
sickened myself, aad seeing very many ladies in, perhaps, a 
worse condition, I rebuked the practice of wholesale and 
indiscriminate tobacco-spitting, in language as mild as pos- 
sible ; but not, I think, without creating some ill-feeling. 
Said Mr. Truthful, after the service was over : “ I do wish, 
Mr. Bray, you had not spoken of tobacco-spitting. It is a 
dirty practice, but one which every one, almost, is guilty of 
here. I’ve heard nothing but good this week about our 
preacher ; but now I shall hear many say, 4 Your preacher 
had better mind his own business.’ It’s hard for some peo- 
ple to break off from such habits.” 

“ But, Mr. Truthful, had that nuisance not been stopped, 
I should have been unable to proceed with the services. 1 
was already sick at the stomach. I protested in very mild 
language; and the favor I asked, I’m sure, should have been 
willingly granted. I would not gladly offend any one. I 
have never used tobacco in any form, and although I like 
well enough a little of its odor, I could not possibly endure 
the foul filth expectorated before my eyes from the mouths 
of a whole congregation. If the people are so wedded to 
this practice that they can not give it up, while the services 
are proceeding, I have another reason for leaving.” 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


77 


This week there was a camp-meeting held not far from 
Micropolis, which was largely attended by the preachers of 
the district. Being myself no friend to camp-meetings, I 
did not attend. 

On Sunday evening, September 3rd, while on horseback 
returning from my work, as tired as ever man could be, 
about five miles from Micropolis, and several from any house, 
I saw, as I thought, sitting on their haunches, three large, 
stray dogs. They appeared about four feet long and two 
and a half feet high. As I had been riding along, I thought 
of my circumstances ; and considering all things, I felt 
greatly disheartened. Every Sunday I was forced to travel 
about thirty miles to reach my different appointments, always 
depending on some one’s good-will for a horse to ride on. 
As yet I had no house, no place to call home, not even an 
acceptable lodging-place ; and I felt in my heart no bright 
prospects for the future. For myself my heart was sore 
enough ; but as I thought of Aggie, I felt more impatient, 
and concluded something should be done. While thus 
reflecting, I was brought within about fifteen feet to the 
animals, when I realized to my horror that they were three 
large, grey wolves. The stars were shining most beauti- 
fully, and the moon was moving through the heavens in all 
her unveiled glory. As I passed the animals, I clapped my 
hands, and shouted at the glaring-eyed monsters. I had no 
sooner done this than, with a frightful howl, they sprang at 
the horse. The latter gave a snort, and dashed away so 
suddenly that I almost lost my balance and fell over. It was 
a young horse, and as yet had hardly been worked. Over 
the prairie went the beautiful, intelligent and frightened 
creature, like the very lightning, pursued by the maddened, 
hungry wolves which were all the time trying to get at my 
feet. I scarcely hoped, knowing what a poor rider I was, to 
escape their distended jaws. In a short time they had sue- 


78 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


ceeded in pulling out from under the saddle a blanket which 
Mr. Smith had spread there, and which at the time must 
have been hanging low down at the horse’s side. * As soon 
as this was done, they stopped pursuing me, and the whole 
prairie seemed resonant with the howls of the ferocious 
beasts. But even though no longer pursued, the horse 
would not be checked. On it rushed like a meteor, until it 
dashed into the yard of its owner. There stood Mr. Smith 
wondering what could have happened, and there stood the 
horse shaking and trembling like a leaf. 

While pursued by the wolves, my thoughts would often 
revert to Aggie. Oh, how I earnestly prayed that I might 
not be taken from her, and she be left a stranger, in a strange 
land, without money or friends ! Oh, how I longed once 
more to find myself basking in the life-giving beams of 
my Sunshine ! 

Eight o’clock on Saturday night, we left the residence of 
Mr. Soulless ; and in the darkness made our way across the 
prairie to the residence of Mr. Smith. It had come to my 
knowledge that the former had loaned the latter quite a sum 
of money, and that he was exacting fifteen per cent interest. 
Mr. Smith was a very poor man who had known better days, 
but now was living in abject poverty. His wife surrounded 
with wretchedness and want, was fast falling a prey to 
anxiety and care. I could not help feeling deeply for them 
in their miserable state ; and I hoped by speaking to Mr- 
Soulless, I might persuade him to exact less interest ; but I 
had misjudged him. He was hard-hearted, unfeeling, un- 
scrupulous, caring little for the wail of the orphan, the cry 
of the widow, or the bloody sweat of the unfortunate bor- 
rower that might be in his hands, provided only he got his 
fifteen per cent ; and yet this man was a prominent mem- 
ber of the church ; indeed ! he was the very pillar of the 
church. 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


79 


“ O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! ” 

When I spoke to him of the unfortunate circumstances of 
Mr. Smith, and of the wretched condition of his wife and 
family ; how he was heavily in debt, and had to pay fifteen 
per cent, an interest, I said, ruinous to any borrower, he 
got very angry, and, as it were, cried out in the words of 
Shylock : 

“ The pound of flesh which I demand of him, 

Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it.” 

I said I was very sorry to have offended him, but wished, if 
it were possible, to make him deal mercifully with Mr. 
Smith who was a member of the same church, and certainly 
in most deplorable circumstances. 

“ If you do not approve my business conduct, Mr. Bray,” 
said Mr. Soulless, “ you can leave my house, sir, and leave it 
to-night.” 

“ I do not approve your business conduct with Mr. 
Smith, sir,” I said; “ nor do I think that either law or Gospel 
will justify any man in charging another fifteen per cent for 
the loan of money, and at the same time demand first-class 
security.” 

“ I have loaned Mr. Smith, sir, money on several occa- 
sions; and what I have loaned him, I shall expect him to re- 
turn according to agreement.” 

“ I understand, Mr. Soulless, that you have done as you 
say ; and, without much doubt, as you have already taken 
from him, little by little, much that he once possessed, so 
will you in due time take from him the balance ; for I insist, 
no farmer can possibly pay fifteen per cent, and save his 
farm.” 

“ My business, sir, is my own, and something with which 
you have nothing to do. As you have presumed to meddle 
with it, I have already said what you can do.” 

“Mr. Soulless, I have heard you express your desire, and 


8o 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


it will immediately be complied with, though we were to use 
the prairie for a bed, and a stone for a pillow. We shall 
not again meddle with your business, nor with you. It may 
be, however, that some day God may meddle with it. Let 
us hope that He may, that justice may be done both to you 
and Mr. Smith. I am sure, as a member of the church, you 
ought to be satisfied with God’s judgment.” 

“ A moment ago, sir, you said you were going to comply 
with my desires ; let me ask you to do so immediately.” 

Thereupon we collected the few things we had there, and 
by the aid of a lantern went out into the darkness, leaving 
Mrs. Soulless and her daughter in floods of tears. They 
besought us to look over Mr. Soulless’ actions, and remain 
with them; but we felt the insult was too great, honorably 
any longer to continue as their guests. The mother and 
daughter were greatly pained at parting with Aggie ; but 
thanking them for all they had done for us, with an affec- 
tionate kiss, she bade them good evening, never to see them 
again. 

Mr. Smith lived about three-quarters of a mile distant, 
and in the darkness we found it very difficult to find his 
residence. After some wandering about, we were glad to 
see a light in a window ; and from the character of the 
man, we knew well it was for us, or any others in like cir- 
cumstances. 

On opening the door, he was amazed to find us there 
asking shelter for the night. We were willingly admitted, 
and given the best the house afforded. 

Next morning, at breakfast-table, Mr. Smith said : “ It 

is a wonder to me, Mr. Bray, that you could stay there as 
long as you have. He is a very passionate man, ready to 
bite any man who may chance to come in his way. His soul 
is as hard as his money, and that’s hard enough to grind 
out the life of any man. It is my own fault, of course, that 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


81 


I ever got into his power ; but I fear I have now as little 
chance of escape as the fly in the claws ot the spider.” 

“ I am sorry, Mr. Smith, that the unpleasantness occurred 
between me and Mr. Soulless; but I thought, and think, it 
was my duty to do as I did. Since it has occurred, it has 
determined me to leave this place, and leave it immediately. 
I have no home, no conveyance to take me from point to 
point, no proper boarding-place, nothing, indeed, that can 
make life bearable for me and my wife. To stand, this any 
longer, would be degrading to myself, and insulting to her. 
I shall bid this place farewell this week.” 

“Under the circumstances, Mr. Bray, I could not blame 
you, especially since what occurred with Mr. Soulless who 
would now make your stay here as unpleasant as he possibly 
could. Being the pillar of the church, it is in his power to 
do you not a little harm. No, sir, I could not blame you for 
your decision. Personally I am very sorry to see you go; 
but as things are going, I do not think I can long remain 
here. I fear I shall soon lose the little I have, especially 
since I am not as strong as I was.” 

Tuesday morning, September 12th, Mr. Smith took us to 
the station. There we were met by Mr. Lovease who labored 
to persuade me to remain, and promised a very liberal sub- 
scription toward my support, if I concluded to do so; but 
for the sake of the reasons already given, we bade them adieu, 
and took the cars for Stromville, Michigan, where we arrived 
Tuesday evening, September 14th. 

The Methodist Episcopal Conference was then in session 
at that place; and having received several letters from a 
prominent presiding elder of that conference, promising me 
very desirable work, should I come, I hoped to receive 
some suitable place; but the appointment offered me I 
refused to accept. 

We left Stromville, Wednesday evening the 20th, and 
6 


82 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


arrived at Shoenville, in the state of Jefferson, the next 
day. 

That evening I called on the bishop presiding at the 
conference, who said : 

“ From what I know of you, Mr. Bray, I judge you have 
done foolishly in coming west. You are not the kind of 
man, nor is your wife the kind of woman, to rough it, as 
they say; but such are the men, and such are the women, 
who are wanted here. You would have done much better, 
had you remained in a more civilized community. This 
conference, as it is, is quite full ; no good appointment is 
vacant; and for the few good places to be had, there are 
already twice too many applicants. I know of only one 
place not already provided for. If you choose to go there, 
you can. Something better would be done for you next 
year, and I will see that you have a small missionary appro- 
priation to help you out; but I doubt very much that you 
and Mrs. Bray can live on the income you would receive 
there.” 

I replied that as things were with us, I thought it wise to 
accept such work as the conference had to offer, and to trust 
to the future for something better. 

Monday night the 25th, the conference closed. My 
appointment was read out, Moth and Mazar. 

The following morning we left Shoenville, taking the 
cars for Farmerville via Fairtown. At the latter place we 
remained over night, continuing our journey the next morn- 
ing. On the cars we were met by an Episcopal minister, 
and the Right Rev. the Episcopal bishop of the state of 
Jefferson. After exchanging courtesies, the latter said : 
“ You are returning from the Methodist Conference, I 
presume.” 

“ Hardly returning, sir,” I replied, “ but rather coming. 
I am a stranger in this part of the land, having just had 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


83 


assigned me my first work. I am but a short time out of 
the schools, and I am really longing to be at my post of 
duty/' 

Having asked my education and what church I had been 
raised in, and being informed, the bishop replied : “ It 

seems to me very strange why such a man could find himself 
at home in Methodism. The Episcopal Church is really the 
same as the English; it is also in great need of men like 
yourself, educated and energetic. I hope, Mr. Bray, that 
you may think of the claims of your mother church; and, if 
possible, come over with us. We will give you a hearty wel- 
come, and send you to preach the faith you were raised in, 
the faith once delivered to the saints. I ask you, Mrs. Bray, 
to bring your influence to bear on your husband, that he 
may speedily return to the ancient faith, that in which you 
were both brought up.” 

“ Bishop,” said Aggie, “ you can depend on me; I will do 
my very best. I greatly prefer the Episcopal Church to any 
other, because of her forms, as well as her history.” 

“ Mr. Bray,” said the bishop, “ I will take the pleasure, at 
my earliest opportunity, of mailing you a prayer-book, and 
a copy of the canons; and if you wish, you can take orders 
with us in a year.” 

We both liked the bishop who was a very affable and 
gentlemanly-looking man. 

Having finished our conversation with the bishop, we 
were approached by the minister who had had charge of 
my appointment the preceding year. After introducing 
himself, he said : “ Brother Bray, allow me to warn you to 

beware of brother Squareman. He is a very peculiar man, 
always ready to make mischief in the church, and to talk 
evil about his neighbors. Be very careful how you treat 
him. If you show much regard for him, your chief mem- 
bers will be offended; if you show little, he is likely to lose 


8 4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


his soul. He thinks he has not been well treated; blames 
the minister, blames the brethren, blames everybody. His 
relations with the church are already almost severed; the 
least friction will break the last remaining link. You will 
find another man in your congregation, brother Headstrong, 
a man full of zeal, but fuller still of ignorance. He wants a 
good deal to say; but you can stand that, since he pays well. 
Between brothers Squareman and Headstrong there is a very 
bitter feeling, arising from an old sore. We had a church 
trial about the matter; but no good ever came out of it. 
This feeling does lots of mischief in that circuit, and you 
will have to work very carefully under it. You are going 
to a very difficult place, one poor in money, but rich in 
quarrels.” 

I thanked the gentleman for his advice; at the same 
time it made me feel quite uneasy. 

I had but a moment to think over the ominous words of 
the last gentleman, before another preacher came up. In- 
troducing himself, he said: “I think the bishop must have 
lost his senses to send you where you are going, brother 
Bray.” 

“Why so, sir?” I asked. 

“I have preached there,” he replied, “and know the 
people well. You will not remain there six months, and 
ought not. They never have had a minister whom they did 
not abuse, and I guess never will. You will find no roses 
in your path there, I assure you; but thorns grow there ev- 
erywhere, and a plenty of them too. I don’t wish to dis- 
hearten you, God knows; but I speak the truth. You are 
not going to the people who need you, you are going where 
you will spend your energies in vain; and take my word 
for it.” 

“ It seems to me,” said Aggie, “ that all the powers of 
darkness combine on this train to dishearten you, before 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


85 


you even know the people to whom you are sent. They 
speak of members abusing one another. If this is not 
abuse which I have heard from them, then I do not know 
what abuse is; I must not only be in a strange land, but I 
must also hear a strange language. I wonder if they are a 
sample of the whole ? ” 

“Never mind, darling,” I replied. “You have not as 
yet become confederate against me; and until that happens, 
I shall not lose courage.” 

Wednesday, September 27th, we arrived at our appoint- 
ment in Moth. It was a strange-looking place; yet we 
hoped by hard work prosperity could be brought within our 
plane of vision; and I determined, more especially for Ag- 
gie’s sake, to see it, if hard work could accomplish it. 

We received a hearty welcome at the house of Mr. 
Smalleyes, where it was agreed that we should remain, until 
the parsonage at Mazar could be put in readiness to re- 
ceive us. 

I was to preach at three points — Moth, Mazar, and 
Budds. At Mazar, where we were to reside, there was 
neither church nor meeting-house, but the rudiments of a 
village; while at Moth there was a nice little church, but 
no village. At Budds there was neither church nor village, 
the preaching being done in a small country school-house. 

Our first visit was at the house of Mrs. Rattlebones. 
Here Poverty reigned, her prime-ministers being Laziness 
and Intemperance. We were not invited to a seat, for there 
was no such thing in the house, unless we chose to use a 
wooden pail which stood upside-down. Filthy as this 
dwelling was, we knelt together in prayer, and the heart of 
the wretched woman seemed to be comforted. The chief 
cause of the filth and squalor surrounding this poor creature 
who had seen better days, was her good-for-nothing hus- 


86 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


band who roamed at large as a philosopher, when he was 
not drunk in the nearest village. 

A short time after making this visit, we were playing a 
game of croquet with the Misses Smalleyes, when Mr. Rat- 
tlebones chanced to pass by. Seeing us, he entered the 
yard, approached us, and said: 

“ Wa-a-1 now ! I have played at almost every kind of 
game in Christendom, and with almost all the ladies in 
this yer county; but that game beats me. What do you 
call it ? ” 

I answered it was croquet, at the same time inviting him 
to join us. 

“I reckon not,” he replied. “Whenever I indulge in 
such low games, I allers find myself unfit afterwards for 
higher pursuits. Different men have different constertu- 
tions. It may be I was made a leetle too fine for the com- 
mon things of this yer world; but we all, you know, must do 
the best we know how with the stuff which the Man above 
has given us. At least them’s my sentiments. I don’t 
say this to disturb the elder. Perhaps he’s one of those 
tough ones; if so, I say go right on and enjoy yourselves. 
If I could so demean myself, I would jine you in a minute.” 

What could I reply to such a man ? I looked at him. 
He wore a straw hat which the Irishman would call “the re- 
mains of the dacency of his grandfather.” I replied that 
he did right in not abusing his finely constituted organism, 
or impairing his very delicate mental powers; but I hoped 
he never used any other means more likely to accomplish 
these results, than the playing at croquet. 

“You can bet on that, elder. I allers take care of my- 
self. I was brought up to look to that.” 

After he had departed, Aggie said: “Is it possible that 
such a man would turn lecturer ! He looks for all the 


THE WORK BEGUN. 87 

world as if he had been lying in the ditches dead-drunk for 
the last twenty. four hours.” 

Sunday, October 1st, I preached at Moth and Mazar. 
On the next day, after complimenting me on my sermon, 
Mr. Smalleyes said: “ Our last preacher was one of the best 
we’ve ever had in Moth; and he was as lazy as he could be. 
Mr. Beereyed said he should have been sent to chop wood, 
the only thing he was fit by nature to do. Before this man, 
we had a preacher who was enough to disgust anybody. 
Even while preaching his sermon, he would chew and spit 
tobacco. When visiting us, he has frequently been seen to 
lift the rug, and spit under it. I have seen him spit right 
across the parlor. It is because of such men, Mr. Bray, 
that our church here has been disgraced and made a nest of 
discord.” 

While preaching my sermon, I had seen a very intelligent- 
looking woman in the congregation, and I determined to 
ask Mr. Smalleyes her name. 

“ The name of that woman, Mr. Bray, is Woundedheart. 
She is a dangerous woman, and the mother of a still more 
dangerous family. My advice to you is, keep away from 
her.” 

In a few days we found ourselves knocking at the door 
of Mrs. Woundedheart. It was opened by a very pretty 
young lady of about eighteen years. On being asked if 
Mrs. Woundedheart was at home, she replied, “ Yes, sir ; I 
am her daughter. Won’t you please be seated ? I will call 
her.” 

The lady soon entered, and with a smile soon began : 

“ I am glad indeed to see you, Mr Bray, and your wife. 
My health is not as good as it used to be, and I suppose 
never will be again.” 

“ We are sorry that your health is not as good as it used 
to be, Mrs. Woundedheart, and hope you will soon regain 


88 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


your old strength. Do you go to church regularly, Mrs. 
Woundedheart ? ” 

“ I am sorry to tell you I do not, Mr. Bray. I used to 
be a great church-goer ; but since here I’ve discovered that 
all people are not what they profess to be. Our church here 
is all in disorder. I suppose you’ve already discovered that; 
if not, I assure you, you soon will. People have no confi- 
dence in the leaders, none at all. My husband will never 
go again. He says he can worship much better under the 
poplar, than with a band of hypocrites. Mr. Smalleyes, 
your leading man, is as mean a man as this world has ever 
known. The truth is, he makes it his chief business to lie 
about me and mine. He has tried for years to ruin us. 
We’ve had several law suits with him, and there are more to 
come. He has tried even to blast the character of my 
daughter here, and he has nearly ruined my son. He is a 
very wicked man, and his chief assistant is Mr. Beereyed 
who is drunk on whiskey one day, and full of the Holy Ghost 
the next. My son says that Smalleyes makes the bullets, 
and Beereyed shoots them. Mr. Smalleyes, you know, is a 
coward, and gets Mr. Beereyed to do openly what he con- 
trives in secret.” 

“ My dear Mrs. Woundedheart, I do not see how you can 
suppose I should know that Mr. Smalleyes is a coward. We 
came to see you, and know you. We wish you to come to 
our services, and help us build up the work. Never mind 
Mr. Smalleyes. Perhaps if you should return kindness for 
the injury you suppose he has done you, it might be the 
best medicine you could give the disease as it exists. But 
do not tell us any more about Mr. Smalleyes.” 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Bray, but I feel I must unburden my 
griefs to you ; it will greatly help me to do so. I have no 
desire to speak evil of any one ; but I mention who are the 
chief officers in our church here. I gave you but two of the 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


89 


names. Another one is Mr. Longshanks. He is not so bad 
as the other two. His wickedness is chiefly against himself, 
in filling himself up with whiskey, with which he keeps his 
cellar well supplied. He is a trustee ; but nobody puts any 
confidence in his word. If he sells, he gets as much as pos- 
sible ; if he buys, he gives as little as possible. As far as 
that goes, his hand is against everybody, and everybody is 
against him ; but, still, I think he is about the best member 
you have in your church here, and he doesn’t profess to 
have any religion ; indeed ! he laughs at it. The best men 
we have here, never go to church ; they have had too much 
of it already. Mr. Hardtocrack, for instance, is as good as 
a man can be ; but he never goes to church. He had a 
very pretty daughter to whom Mr. Smalleyes’ son was en. 
gaged. While in this relation, this young blackguard be- 
trayed her. What did his father do ? Why he sent him out 
of the country, and left the poor girl to live in open shame. 
Mr. Backslider is another good man. He had made a note 
promising to pay the church authorities the sum of two hun- 
dred dollars toward building the church here. Things went 
against him. His note became due ; he couldn’t pay it. 
Mr. Smalleyes thereupon sued him, and forced him to sell 
what little stock he had to meet it. He now spends all his 
spare time in cursing the Methodists. Mr. Blackbird was 
treated in like manner, and to-day is a bitter enemy to the 
church. The minister went around with a subscription- 
paper ; Mr. Blackbird signed it ; his promise became due ; 
he was unable to meet it ; he was sued, and forced to pay it 
at the expense of selling his stock. Even the church build- 
ing was built in a very strange way. They went around 
with a subscription-paper, with the understanding that the 
church should be built, where the majority of the subscribers 
should vote it to be built. When the money was all pledged, 
an official meeting was held, at which it was decided to 


9 o 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


build it where it now stands, Mr. Smalleyes influencing the 
meeting by promising the church sufficient land to keep a 
cow, and make a garden for the minister. But in the deed 
he gave, he took care to have inserted a clause, whereby the 
land all reverts to him in ten years, unless certain conditions 
are fulfilled. These ten years are almost expired, and if you 
folks are not careful, he will soon possess the land again. 
He has been raising corn on it for years, without paying one 
cent rent. He should be made to pay rent in full with in- 
terest. With that money they would soon have a round sum 
toward building a parsonage.” 

After leaving, Aggie said : “ What a place this is ! I 

wonder will the next house we visit, have so many good 
things to relate ? ” 

Sunday, October 8th, I preached in the morning at Moth, 
and in the evening at Budds. To reach the latter place 
I had to make a journey to and fro of twenty-eight miles. 
Horseback-riding was something I had hoped to escape by 
leaving Kansas ; but unfortunately for me, here again I had 
to perform the same disagreeable labor. Yet in some 
things my lot appeared much better than in Kansas. We 
were to have some kind of a house to live in, and my salary 
would be a little more certain and definite. Often, however, 
would my soul rebel against filling my scattered appoint- 
ments. The words of the bishop who presided at the con- 
ference, were constantly ringing in my ears : “ You would 

have done much better, had you remained in a more civilized 
community.” And, then, the knowledge that so many 
inferior men filled the most important positions, made my 
lot still harder to bear. At such times the words of Marcus 
Aurelius : 

“ If a thing is good to be said or done, 

Do not think it unworthy of thee.” 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


91 


would give me courage to persevere; for, surely, the work I 
was doing was a noble one. 

I found the people at Budds far superior to any other 
on my charge, more educated, more united and more gen- 
erous. It was a pleasure to preach to such. On my return 
I was glad to reveal this fact to Sunshine. She was com- 
forted with my report, and said : “ I do hope you will not 

hear so much abuse there. Do you not fear a person who 
has so much evil to tell about his neighbor ? I myself be- 
lieve that he who acts thus in regard to another, will do so 
in regard to us, when any occasion arises, real or imaginary. 
She who carries a secret in her open hand, hides a dagger in 
her sleeve. Do you not fear its point ? ” 

“Yes, Aggie, I confess I do; but I will try to wear an 
impenetrable armor. There is plenty of poisonous miasma 
on my circuit. Its poison, I think, can best be guarded 
against by keeping within the influence of the rays of your 
sun. I do believe a woman like you has a very subduing 
power over the naughty tongues of still more naughty peo- 
ple. When we come to open war, I think I will push you 
to the front. Wouldn’t that be the right way to do ? ” 

“ It would certainly be the way for you to escape, if you 
would like to do that at the cost of my life; but I have no 
fear of going to the front. I know you will take care of 
me, Harry; but how to take care of you, is the problem.” 

“ Sunshine, we will walk a straight course; and let us 
hope and pray that God will take care of us both.” 

“ Harry, how do you really like your work ? I’m afraid 
that your endeavor to bring harmony out of the existing 
discord, and order out of the present chaos, will make you 
ill, or break you completely down. Day and night you 
think of nothing else than how best to heal old sores, unite 
divided parts, and get a little bread to eat. The work you 
are doing, is noble, no doubt; but I’m certain you might do 


92 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


a similar work in a more agreeable place. The seed you 
sow, is more than the harvest you can expect to reap.” 

“ Sunshine, do not forget the lines : 

“ ‘ We have no right to bliss, 

No title from the gods to welfare and repose.’ ” 

“ Repose is one thing, Harry, and agreeable activity 
another. I do not ask repose or bliss, but such activity as 
may be conducive to the real good of all concerned.” 

“ Here is Mr. Smalleyes, Aggie. Let us hear what he 
has to say about my prospects in Mazar.” 

“ Mr. Smalleyes,” I said, “ there is a good deal of 
apparent, spiritual life in the church people at Mazar. Mr. 
Fraudulent especially appears to be an unusually active 
man.” 

“ Have you ever been at his house, Mr. Bray ? ” 

“ No, sir; I have not been there as yet; I hope, however, 
to go very soon.” 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, Mr. Bray; I think you’ll be satis- 
fied with one visit. They have a large farm, and are con- 
sidered very well-to-do; but they are extremely dirty people. 
There is a sickening odor in their house; and the old woman, 
and the young wife have faces as black as a man’s hat. His 
family, however, are cleanliness itself when compared to his 
cousin’s. In the home of the latter, you might plow up the 
dirt. But, then, it is useless, and perhaps wrong, in me 
telling you who will know it soon enough. Besides, I am 
not a man to talk about my neighbors. I say, let every 
man find out for himself. It is more satisfactory all 
around.” 

“Has Mr. Fraudulent been a member very long? He 
seems to be a man of genuine piety ? ” 

“That’s a man, Mr. Bray, who, like myself, is a trustee 
of the church; but I wouldn’t trust him for a cent, unless I 
wished to lose it. I believe he would cheat his own mother, 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


93 


if he could. He is the tightest man about here to drive a 
bargain; he’ll stand bantering an hour for a cent. You’ll 
know Mr. Fraudulent soon enough, unless I’m mistaken. As 
an officer in the church, I have often had occasion to come 
into close intercourse with him. He is a hard case, I assure 
you.” 

Sunday, October 15th, I preached in the morning at Moth, 
in the afternoon at Budds, and in the evening at Mazar. 
The congregations were very good. 

This week it was agreed that we should visit at the resi- 
dence of Mr. Longshanks who was a very wealthy farmer, 
and of superior education. His wife was a very charming 
woman. As we drove up before the house, Mr. Longshanks 
saw us, and welcomed us with a hearty hand-shaking. “ Ha! 
ha! ha! ” he said. “ This is just what I and the old woman 
have been expecting. We’re going to feed you on red- 
legged chicken, if they don’t all run under the barn. I want 
to feed you up, so that you may give us another discourse 
like that you gave us last Sunday. It makes me feel happy, 
when I think of the God-send we have this year. Ha! ha! 
ha! Well, we’ll do our part. Come in; come in. I want 
to have a good time to-day.” 

In a short time it was arranged for Mrs. Longshanks and 
Sunshine to visit the city, thus leaving Mr. Longshanks and 
myself alone. We were seated in the parlor, when he said : 

“Well, brother Bray, tell us how you like this great and 
glorious country ; and tell us how you like your charge.” 

“ I think it is a beautiful country, sir ; and I hope to see 
prosperity in it. That, however, must depend not a little on 
such as yourself. A good many may make light work of 
doing what one could never accomplish.” 

“ I don’t go in much on religion, brother Bray ; I may 
as well say the truth about it. I’m a member of the church, 


94 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


and I believe I’m what they call a trustee ; but that ends it. 
I don’t profess to be a saint like some of your brethren.'' 

“ It seems to me, Mr. Longshanks, that a thing that’s 
worth doing, is worth doing well. If religion is worth hav- 
ing, it is worth having in its purity. It is good for a man to 
live every day, as if it were his last day.” 

“ That I don’t believe is possible, brother Bray. I con- 
sider such sentimentality good enough for poetry, but it 
doesn’t make good prose.” 

“ I think it does, Mr. Longshanks. Such a life consists 
simply of doing one’s duty. Surely, that is not impossible. 
Nelson expected every man to do that.’' 

“ Many beautiful sayings have come from the lips of men 
in great distress, or great peril ; but take life as we find it, 
and I deny that it is possible at all times, and under all cir- 
cumstances, to do exactly one’s duty.” 

“ I should hardly think a Christian would have a lower 
idea of life’s possibilities than a heathen, Mr. Longshanks ; 
yet we hear Marcus Aurelius saying : 

“ ' Since it is possible that thou mayest depart from life 
this moment, regulate every act and thought accordingly.’ ” 

“I hope, brother Bray, to make some progress in religion 
this winter ; but the truth is, we’ve had such a pack of 
howling fools sent us to preach, that I’m almost sick of the 
name of religion. The last fellow we had sent us, would 
stand upon the platform, Sabbath after Sabbath, and deliver 
what he called sermons, something that showed neither 
brains nor religion, a kind of hotel hash ; but he would 
faithfully visit us, whenever he wanted a five-dollar bill. He 
was accused of lying, stealing, laziness and tale-bearing. 
The greatest fault I had to find in him, was that he hadn’t 
brains enough to last him over night He, however, was 
about the best we’ve had. At one time we had a great re- 
vivalist here, who took with the people immensely, as he was 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


95 


considered by the brethren a man full of the Holy Ghost 
and of power. It was not long before it was discovered 
that he was an agent for a disreputable house in San Fran- 
cisco, and he came very near getting several young girls in 
his hands. Indeed ! it was through his relations with them, 
that his whole nefarious scheme was brought to light. I tell 
you ! when this became known the brethren were struck 
with consternation, as if by the fall of the tower of Babel. 
My ! what a noise there was in the camp ! The holy 
brethren lost the power to say ‘ amen ’ for a long time. I 
say, brother Bray, what do you think of revival methods? ” 

“ I have never been, Mr. Longshanks, a friend of them. 
I have always seen that as the pendulum swings back again 
on attaining its maximum height, so the people after the 
spasmodic efforts of revival meetings, fall back to their 
normal state, having spent their energies in vain. In addi- 
tion to this, I have witnessed so many evils at such exciting 
meetings, as have made me an enemy to them.” 

“ Well, Mr. Bray, you ought to have been present at one 
we had last year. Brother Headstrong, your leading man 
in Mazar, was there. He is the most ignorant man we have 
around ; but he has much to say at the meetings. At the 
one in question, after the preacher had tried to warm up the 
people all in vain, brother Headstrong arose in his seat and 
said : 

“ ‘ Dear friends, the sarpents are among you, the fiery sar- 
pents. You’re in the wilderness of sin. When old Moses 
was leading the children of Israel, the sarpents was sent. 
Did they bite the good folks? No, they bit the wicked 
folks. Just so in like manner is it to-night. You can’t see 
them with your material eyes, for the things of this world 
discerneth not the things of God ; but with my spiritual 
eyes I see them all around you, switching their fiery tails. 
Soon they will dart their fiery forks into your poor souls ; 


9 6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


then what will you do ? Now is the accepted time. Now 
is the day of salvation. One look at the cross, and you are 
saved. And now is the time for Christians to tell these 
poor sinners here what the Lord has done for them. If 
your sins is forgiven, brethren, you know it, and you’ll tell 
it; you’ll proclaim it on the house-top ; the people in Gath 
will hear what God hath done for the children of men. No 
man can set in his seat, and have the power ; and if you 
haven’t the power, you’re none of His. No man with the 
Sperit in his heart, can set still ; for where the Sperit is, 
there is freedom. Why, bless you, brethren and sistern ! I 
donnaw what to do to set still a moment. The power fills 
my whole soul, pushing me onward and upward to the city 
of the New Jerusalem. I fancy I can see them now, with 
all their harps, and flutes ; yes, flutes ! I am one of those 
who loves flutes ; they’re so much like the human voice. 
Rise, brethren ! Tell these sinners how to escape the fiery 
sarpents, before the poison from their fiery tails shall curdle 
through their blood, and they be with the damned cast out 
forever. Rise, my brethren ! or Gabriel may come and 
scourge you.’ 

“ In this way, he went on until I could stand it no longer, 
Mr. Bray. I had to burst out into one of my genuine laughs. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! my laugh was loud and long, and attracted 
the attention of all in the house. For this thing Mr. Head- 
strong never forgave me ; but I couldn’t help it for the life 
of me. It was such a farce. I am glad you don’t approve 
of such methods in religion. As for me, as I have already 
said, I don’t profess to have any ; but I guess you’ll find 
me, in the long run, about as good as the best of them. In 
money matters I’m generally on hand, brother Bray ; and 
this year you can depend on me doubling my former 
yearly subscription. I am willing to pay for a good thing, 
when I have it. As for helping you in the meetings, you’ll 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


97 


find enough help and to spare of that sort in brother Head- 
strong. He can talk a whole regiment to death, and even 
shut up an average half-dozen women. He’s a camp-meet- 
ing in himself alone. But let me advise you to give him 
plenty of rope. Do not cross him. Give him his way; in- 
dulge him in his conceit. He pays well, even if he does 
talk more than all the rest put together. Brother Fraudulent 
is another on whom you can depend for a good ghostly ex- 
perience ; but he doesn’t come up to brother Headstrong. 
I say again, give the latter his way. The crazy old loon 
will do nobody any harm, and he can do you lots of good : 
he can fill your pockets. 

“ Let me ask you what is to be done about our church 
debt. I wish to say to you in confidence that I have given 
my last dime to that cause; not to save the whole concern 
from going to David Jones’ locker, would I give another 
cent. We owe nearly a thousand dollars to the Church Ex- 
tension Society. If this is not soon paid, the church build- 
ing may be sold. For my part, I shouldn’t care if it was; 
and I believe hundreds around here would rejoice. There 
have been far more wranglings and quarrels, since the build- 
ing of that thing, than there ever were before; and many 
think a bon-fire is the very best use it could serve. Besides, 
everybody believes that somebody’s pocket-book was pretty 
deep at the building of that church, or that money was 
dropped into a big hole somewhere. Without doubt the 
good brethren who had charge of that matter, are believed, 
in this part of the country, to have fattened up considerably 
on account of it. But, be that as it may, I will not pay any 
more toward the removal of the debt. I have paid my 
share, and Longshanks pays no more. 

“ Say, brother Bray, tell us how you enjoyed yourselves 
at the residence of our very polite neighbors, the well known 
and far-famed Smalleyes.” 

7 


* 


9 8 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ We enjoyed ourselves, while visiting them, very much. 
They seemed to do everything possible for our comfort. 
Indeed, I sometimes felt a little uncomfortable at their 
constant exertions to make things agreeable for us.” 

“ Dear me, Mr Bray! how happy I should be, were I 
such a father! But how could Longshanks expect to father 
a child smart enough to set the River Thames on fire! or 
beautiful enough to resemble a cask of lager beer, as Miss 
Columbine does ! How charming she looks in her short 
dress! Cleopatria is nothing beside her. What a beautiful 
figure! I wonder that boys should persist in going to the 
city in search for a base-ball, when we have such a charming 
one at home. What a charming bride she’d make! I fancy 
I can see her now. With what grace she moves! Majesty 
decks her brow, and virtue adorns her person. I can see 
her enter the church, swinging on the arm of her beloved. 
There she is — a perfect square, four feet ten by four feet 
ten! Just think of it, almost a hundred and twenty-five 
solid feet! The very thought of it makes my blood, not 
cold, as they say, but almost boil. What a prize for a Her- 
cules ! I don’t wonder that it is said that the sons of God 
came down, and took to themselves as wives the daughters 
of men; but I do wonder that no god sees his chance in fair 
Columbine. I wonder who will be the first to enter into the 
Promised Land ? who will be the first to take possession of 
this symmetrically developed, and robust young goddess ? 
who will lay the beds of roses which her fair form may give 
fragrance to ? By my soul, if only I were free ! but I’m 
bound hand and feet, as if to a column-stone; and I fear 
the stone will hold me. In whatever direction you look, 
you see the marks of beauty spreading out from her, as 
limbs from a tree. Happy the man whose fruitful vine is 
she! In the mother we behold the moon, in the father the 
sun, Or I sometimes compare Mr. Smalleyes to Newton, 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


99 


and his charming and erudite wife to Sappho. O, yes! I 
understand why you should so appreciate your entertain- 
ment there; they are a remarkable family. You’ll find that 
out, more and more, as they have the opportunity of 
displaying to you their wonderful talents. Have a lit- 
tle patience, brother Bray, and your delight will rise to 
ecstacy.” 

We were now interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Long- 
shanks and Sunshine, who had just returned from their visit 
to the city. I felt their coming a great relief to me; for I 
hardly knew what reply I could have made to such an 
ironical harangue. Indeed, I was longing once more to 
receive the mild rays which I always felt in the presence of 
my wife. 

“ Harry,” said Sunshine, “ you can’t imagine how kind 
and attentive Mrs. Longshanks has been to me. She seemed 
forgetful of herself, looking to my little wants. When 
returning I was at one time a little afraid, for we were pur- 
sued by some run-away horses which almost put the spirit of 
flight into ours. But Mrs. Longshanks is so strong; I soon 
found out there was not much cause for fear with her. When 
speaking of you, she seemed unable to use praise enough. 
She said she never knew a minister she liked, as she likes 
you. She doesn’t profess to have any religion; but I really 
believe that no better heart can be found on your charge, 
than that which beats in the breast of Mrs. Longshanks. I 
am so glad, darling, that she is such a friend to you. It 
does your Sunshine good to hear you praised. Who is that, 
Harry, gone into the other room with Mr. Longshanks?” 

“ I think it is Mr. Fraudulent, Sunshine. I remember 
hearing Mr. Longshanks say that he was expecting him. 
He wishes to purchase a piece of land from Mr. Long- 
shanks.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Bray,” said Mrs. Longshanks, coming into the 


IOO 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


room, “ but I do not know how successful Mr. Longshanks 
will be. The truth is, Mr. Fraudulent wishes to purchase it 
at his own price, and then give his note for it.” 

“ I should think timber-land the most valuable you could 
possess, Mrs. Longshanks,” replied Sunshine, “in a country 
where so little timber is found growing.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Longshanks, “it is; but the piece in 
question is almost valueless to us, since Mr. Fraudulent 
lives so near it. He has already taken most of the best tim- 
ber, and the balance will soon go the same way.” 

“Do you mean to say,” I continued, “that Mr. Fraudu- 
lent, a steward in the church, would fell your trees, and steal 
your timber? ” 

“Do I mean to say so?” replied Mrs. Longshanks. 
“You had better ask Mr. Popelover, Mr. Bray; he can give 
you all the information necessary on that subject.” 

“ Mrs. Longshanks,” I* continued, “ you can not think 
that I would ask for such information concerning any of my 
people; but I say to you, as to one of my own flock, is it 
possible that you can believe Mr. Fraudulent guilty of 
theft ! ” 

“Well, then, Mr. Bray, I answer emphatically, yes.” 

“ I can’t fix him,” said Mr. Longshanks, coming into the 
room. “ I have a plan though, and I mean to bring him to 
terms. The farm of Mr. Popelover joins that of Fraudu- 
lent. They hate one another, and have for years. I told 
Fraudulent that Popelover wanted the land. The moment 
I said that, I saw him wince, as under the smart of a whip. 
He knows well that, if Popelover purchases it, the road to 
his farm, from that quarter, will be cut off; while at the 
same time the Popelover farm would be greatly increased 
in value. Because of this fact, I think I can make a lever 
of the old Popelover to lift Fraudulent with; and if I don’t 
raise his hair, then my name isn’t what my mother gave me.” 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


IOI 


“ Mr. Longshanks,” I asked, “ do you think that Mr. 
Fraudulent offered you a fair price for the land ? ” 

“That’s not the question, Mr. Bray,” replied Mr. Long- 
shanks. “I have the advantage of Fraudulent now, for the 
first time for many years, and I should be a fool not to use 
it. Business is business all the world over. Besides, I have 
no reason for kindness to Fraudulent. If I had justice from 
him, I should receive not only a fair price for the land, but 
also the full interest on the value of the timber he has stolen 
during the last ten years.” 

“It is terrible, tylr. Longshanks,” I said, “to hear such 
an accusation made against a steward in the church. How 
do you suppose I should regard it, were I in another house, 
and should hear the host thus make charges against you ? ” 

“ I don’t know how you would regard it,” answered Mr. 
Longshanks; “but one thing I do know, and that is, you 
will not have the opportunity of hearing any host, or any- 
body else, make such charges. Longshanks is well known 
around here; and where he’s known, his word is as good 
as his note.” 

“ I say nothing for the purpose of disturbing your feel- 
ings, Mr. Longshanks,” I replied; “but I am so sorry that 
one of my children should be obliged to think so much evil 
of another. I think children of the same family, in God’s 
house, should try to look over one another's faults; and, as 
much as possible, to aid one another in overcoming the dif- 
ficulties of life. Oh, Mr. Longshamks ! I sometimes fear 
the Gospel affects the outside more than the heart within. 
Christians appear no more merciful or honorable than others 
in their business transactions. I would to God that there 
were less of dead, and more of living, gospels among us.” 

“Gospel or no Gospel,” brother Bray,” replied Mr. 
Longshanks, “my experience is, ‘each one for himself and 
God for us all.’ You can take that for your text anywhere in 


102 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


this great state, and it will be received as the only sound 
business principle a man can act upon. As for Mr. Fraud- 
ulent, any sympathy you may have for him, is unnecessary, 
and uncalled for; nor would he thank you for it, should he 
know you gave it him. Skin for skin is his text; and I 
know well that, if he could, he would eat me skin and all. 
He wouldn’t hesitate to rob his brother, which very thing he 
is believed to have done. I am sorry this thing should have 
occurred in your presence, as you seem to have a surplus of 
what my favorite poet calls the milk of human kindness. I 
think, however, that a few years’ experience in this great 
state may dry up somewhat the fountain which at present 
yields so plentifully with you. Let us hear no more about 
this subject now. I wish to enjoy your company while with 
us, and for you and your wife to have a pleasant visit. You 
are welcome to anything we have in our house; but, please, 
let Mr. Fraudulent fight his own battles; and as he is a much 
larger man than you are, he surely is able to do it.” 

It was about a month after this conversation, that I said 
to Sunshine: “We must move into the parsonage; and I 
think the sooner, the better for us. In going from house to 
house, I hear hardly anything but evil-speaking. I now 
know all the stewards and trustees, and I do not remember 
ever hearing one of them speak well of another. I had 
hoped that the officers of the church would be exemplary 
men. Instead of that^all I hear is one accusing another of 
lying, stealing, drunkenness, or fraud. My life-giving Sun- 
shine ! were it it not for you, I should sink away under the 
thoughts of my wounded spirit. What a farce is the pro- 
fession of most men ! What a superficial effect has the 
preaching of the Gospel on their lives ! It is enough verily 
to shake the faith of any man in Christianity, as the only 
divine religion, when he knows and sees the conduct of its 
adherents ! Do the members of our churches live any bet- 


THE WORK BEGUN. 


103 


ter lives than those who make no profession whatever ? I 
have my doubts that they do. The ethics of Aristotle or 
Plato, who certainly were not Christians, would damn to the 
very depths of hell the average church-goer. It was but yes- 
terday that a sincere Christian woman said: ‘ The churches 
are full of infidels.’ There is more truth than fiction in her 
saying. So-called Christian civilization differs from heathen- 
ism more because of its power to wear an outside garb, than 
because of any superior inner qualities. One thing sure: I 
must end this peripatetic mode of existence. We must and 
will move into the little parsonage. It may not be a man- 
sion, but it will give us at least a retreat. Besides, if the 
occupant confers dignity on the house, rather than the 
house on the occupant, then, I am sure, however humble it 
may be, it will be a palace, when thou, my queen, art in it. 
I still confess the truth of the poem I composed and sent 
you December 26th, 1874: 

No night can there be with him who is blest 
With a sun such as given in thee, 

Which glows in thy heart, and encircles thy breast, 

And pours its bright beams upon me. 

Entrancingly sweet is the power of love 
Imbibed from the heart of a soul 

Who is to the drinker his own cooing dove, 

And trusts to his keeping her whole. 

To live for to love ! what joys it creates 
In the heart that is pure and good ! 

It seemeth divine, such pleasure it makes, 

While it lifts the lover to God. 

As fair as the hills of Lebanon are 
When Aurora approacheth the west, 

And scatters his bright, golden beams from afar. 

Is thy pure and womanly breast. 


104 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

The sun, our great centre of light and of heat, 
Is marred with black spots on his face; 

But thou, my own goddess, in all things discreet, 
Art full of all beauty and grace. 

If Venus e’er deigned to take mortal form, 

It could not be other than thine. 

How loving thine eyes ! thy bosom how warm ! 

If Venus e’er was, she is mine.” 


/ 


CHAPTER IV. 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. WORK CONTINUED. 

On Monday, November 27th, 1876, we moved into the 
little parsonage in Mazar. We had waited long, hoping the 
members of the church, in Mazar and Moth, would carry 
out their promises, and furnish the house with, at least, the 
necessary, heavy furniture ; but finding they had done 
nothing towards effecting what we so much desired, we 
thought it best to purchase ourselves such furniture as we 
thought necessary, and move into the little home, for the 
reasons already given. 

The first floor of the house had lately been plastered ; 
but we had been told that the walls were thoroughly dry. 
After four days trial, I saw it was impossible to remain any 
longer in the house, with the stove we had, without risking 
the life of my wife. The stove was one we had given us. 
It was old, and altogether too small to properly heat the 
building, especially during such cold weather. Friday 
Mr. Loveright called to see us. After I had made known 
the state of things to him, he insisted on our coming to his 
house to pass the night, promising the next day to take me 
to the city, where I might purchase a new and larger stove, 
such as would enable us to live in the parsonage, without 
endangering our lives, especially that of my wife. I was 
very glad, indeed, to accept the offer so kindly tendered, a 
thousand-times glad for the sake of Sunshine who had begun 
to feel the effects of the damp and chilly air of the rooms, 
The next day we were enabled to return to the parsonage, 
having in the meantime purchased such a stove as we thought 
would meet all requirements. 

105 


106 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

We could not but regard ourselves as having been the 
objects of very unkind treatment by the people, in the 
church, not carrying out their promises, thereby forcing us, 
out of the little salary I received, to purchase, without their 
assistance, whatever we thought necessary to furnish the 
house ; and I am sure that this unkind treatment served to 
deepen my inquiry into the nature and ground-work of the 
faith I professed. It seemed to me that the true value of 
any religious faith, should be measured by its power to make 
men better in this world, the only world we really know any- 
thing about. But such evidence as I had, went to prove 
that professors were no kinder, no more charitable, no more 
merciful, no more forgiving, np more honorable in their 
dealings, — in short that they were no better than those who 
made no profession ; indeed ! I sometimes thought that the 
latter were the nobler men. Who was he who first called on 
us in our new home, and inquired if we were comfortable or 
not? Was he a professor? Verily he was not. He was 
one of the so-called children of this world. Who was he 
that generously took me to the city, where I might purchase 
the stove to enable my Sunshine to live in the miserable 
little house the church had given us to dwell in ? Was he 
one of our own people ? Verily he was not. He was but one of 
those who are said to be under the rule of the prince of 
darkness. Who was he who generously gave us coal and 
kindling? Was he a church-member? Verily he was not. 
He was but one of those who are said to compose the 
family of Satan. Truthfully could we say : We were 
sick and the world visited us ; naked, and the world 
clothed us ; in prison, and the world gave us our free- 
dom ; hungry, and the world fed us. Yet, though my 
heart was half-broken, I could not disbelieve that true reli- 
gion was both natural and valuable to man. I felt convinced 
that the religious faith I professed, could not be a true one, 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


107 


and, therefore, not such as might naturally be expected to 
make its adherents better. Nor was I long in discovering, 
according to my judgment, the vitiating principle in the 
faith of those to whom I preached ; and that principle I be- 
lieved to be faith in the doctrines of vicarious atonement, 
imputed righteousness, and salvation by faith. I could not 
but see that belief in such doctrines, must tend to weaken 
man’s perception of the relation necessarily existing between 
cause and effect, and make him less fearful of doing wrong 
from the dread of the penalty necessarily resulting. If a 
man believes he must suffer the consequences of his own 
actions, he is likely, from the fear of suffering, to avoid 
doing wrong ; but if he believes he can lay his sins on Jesus, 
or on any other mediator, he is not likely to be so careful of 
his actions, especially when by erring a little, he can, as he 
thinks, give himself some kind of enjoyment or gratification. 
Being fully persuaded of the truth of these conclusions, in 
all my sermons I laid but little, if any, stress on the doctrines 
above mentioned, as, in my judgment, vitiating ; but all 
stress on character, as being the only true test of worthiness 
in this world or that to come. That which would best pre- 
pare man to live in this world, I held would best prepare 
him to live in any world. My sermons, therefore, 
would naturally become more and more distasteful to the 
ignorant members of my charge, who believed more in the 
loudness of the shout, and the depth of the groan, as the 
test of righteousness and true worth in God’s sight, than in 
the life and action. My doctrine they could not well stand ; 
for well they knew that if they were to be judged by their 
works rather than by their faith, a very large percentage of 
them would be shut completely out of the kingdom of heaven, 
as being unworthy to dwell with those who have washed 
their robes, and made them white, in well doing. 

For a few days before we moved into the parsonage, our 


108 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

abode was more transitory than usual. Wednesday, Thurs- 
day, and Friday, the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th of November, we 
passed at the residence of Mr. Squareman ; Saturday we 
passed at the residence of Mr. Pudority ; and Sunday we 
passed at the house of Mr. Beereyed, moving the next day, 
the 27th, into the parsonage. 

During those days we heard hardly anything else but 
bitter complaint and evil-speaking. To protest against it, 
we found was utterly useless. True it would prevent the 
slander from falling continuously, as it were, in April 
showers ; but such prevention, we found, served only to give 
time for the gathering of the small and scattered clouds into 
a black and ominous sky ready to burst into a deafening 
thunder-storm. 

Mr. Squareman was a well-to-do farmer, and treated us, 
as his guests, most generously. On entering the house, we 
were hospitably received, and welcomed in the following 
words : 

“ Well, brother and sister Bray, we are right glad to have 
you with us. We’ve been expecting you a long time, and, 
till now, expecting in vain ; but, I suppose, it has been with 
you as with our other preachers, — slanderous tongues have 
kept you away.” 

“ Mr. Squareman, your supposition, I assure you, has no 
warrant whatever. Besides, nothing but direct and absolute 
refusal to see me, ever prevents my calling on my people. 
They are all alike to me, — all the objects of my solicitude. 
When they rejoice, I rejoice ; when they weep, I weep. I 
never have any favorites.” 

“Yes, Mr. Bray,” said Mr. Squareman, “that’s beauti- 
ful ; but you don’t know our neighbors. Where we came 
from, people felt kindly to one another ; but here, all are 
one’s enemies. The chief officers of the church in Mazar 
delight in slander and lying. Of all things on earth, of all 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 109 

the sins a man can be guilty of, I do think slandering is the 
worst. It is something you will never hear in this house ; 
we shut our doors against it. Of course, we sometimes 
speak the truth about matters ; but slander is something 
that both my wife and I consider beneath a square man. If 
ever we speak about our neighbors, we do so with righteous 
judgment, knowing that as we judge, so shall we be judged. 
When we are offended, we sometimes let the world know it ; 
and no man that ever lived,. can stand what the officers of 
the church in this place do, without being offended and 
showing it. We say, it would be a sin for a man not to be 
offended, when truth is trodden under foot, and sin walks in 
high places. Look at that Meekface, for instance. What 
a man to be a steward in a church ! He has done all he could 
against me in a law-suit, and has been the means of my 
losing hundreds of dollars. From the very beginning, he 
has been an enemy to me, although a brother-member. To 
tell the truth, brother Bray, that man can’t possibly repeat 
what he hears, without changing it so that no man would 
know it. His whole family are natural liars. It’s a disease 
that’s hereditary in the whole Meekface family. What I’m 
saying is no news to you ; it’s impossible that it should be. 
No man could live around here two months, without know- 
ing the reputation of that family. 

“ My dear Mr. Squareman ! excuse me, ” I said, “ but 
what you say, is certainly news to me ; and since I hate to 
be made the keeper of secrets, let me beg of you to say no 
more about the Meekface family. Let us talk about each 
other. We know ourselves so much better than we know 
Mr. Meekface. ” 

“ That’s all right, Mr. Bray, and, so far as that goes, very 
well said ; but as I was saying, I wouldn’t trust that fellow 
the length of my nose. Indeed, I have a dog here that’s 
better at heart than he is. If things arn’t altered here 


no 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


pretty soon, the church will go to the ground. We’ve had 
preachers here that wouldn’t even call upon us, because of 
the lies of that man and some of his imps. Such preachers 
I consider unworthy of notice. You’re welcome, brother 
Bray, and I hope at all times that you’ll find me a square 
man. 

“ The last minister here wasn’t as good a man as his wife, 
by a long shot. The fellow here before him, — well, he was 
a fool born and bred. You could see it in his face, and 
know it by his speech. But that isn’t the worst of it — Just 
think of a minister living with another man’s wife, as he did. 
Why I’ve heard his own children swear that he wasn’t their 
father. What an example for a community ! And, then, of 
all liars, he’d beat all ; why ! he was worse than Tom Pep- 
per ; and you know what the folks say of him. After he’d 
been going around here for a long time lying about me, I 
met him one day, coming up the hill here by the house. I 
stopped him as a square man would ; indeed ! I stopped him 
as I’d stop my dog, and gave him a piece of my mind. 
You ought to have seen him. Why ! he was ashamed to be 
seen ; he couldn’t look me in the face for a moment, but 
stammered and stuttered, and hung down his head like a 
whipped cur. I don’t care who the man is, brother Bray ; 
but I speak my mind, and that’s the way some say that I’m 
peculiar, that I’m not converted, that I haven’t the power. 
I’ll tell you, I don’t want conversion, if such hypocrites as 
we have around here, are converted. Thank God ! I was 
converted many years ago ; but I don’t want the prayers of 
those who are almost past repentance, and who are hardly 
fit to pray for themselves. ‘ Physician, heal thyself, ’ is what 
I say to such. No kiss of a Judas for me ! Squareman 
takes no part in such mean, dirty business. I tell you what 
it is : If I could sell my farm, I’d soon make short work of 
it, — I’d soon pull up my stakes, and quit this country. 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


in 


’Tisn’t fit for a decent man to live in. The very face of that 
Meekface condemns him. I tell you, brother Bray, I speak 
the truth when I say I wouldn’t believe him on his oath. I 
don’t believe he knows how to tell the truth. 

“ Another of your principal men is brother Fraudulent. 
Not long ago I needed a hundred dollars for a year. When 
I asked him for the loan, he told me money was scarce, and 
wanted twelve per cent and good security. I said to him : 
‘ Look here, brother Fraudulent, I’ll give you twelve per 
cent, and good security. That security is my word. If my 
promise, as a member of the same church, isn’t good enough, 
I won’t give you any better security.’ Well, I couldn’t get 
the money; but I afterwards went to a sinner, arid got it on 
my own terms. At another time I asked him for a small 
loan. He said he had no money; at the same time I was 
certain that he had not less than two hundred dollars in the 
house. The whole community will join me in saying, there 
isn’t a bigger rascal outside the state’s prison.” 

“ Mr. Squareman,” I asked, “ how far does Mr. Head- 
strong live from here ? ” 

“ Haven’t you been there yet, brother Bray ? ” 

“ No, sir,” I said. 

“ Well, brother Bray, you’ll be there soon enough. Don’t 
be in too much of a hurry. We know something of that 
man. When we first came here, we stayed some time with 
him; but we paid full price for everything we received. 
What did that fellow do, but blab all around that he had 
kept us there for nothing! I tell you, brother Bray, that 
fellow is not a square man. He has a fine farm and some 
money ; how he got it, God knows. In the early days, he 
went to California. I expect it was there he fell accident- 
ally upon his money; for it does not seem to me that he 
ever could have gotten it in a community, where one has to 
work for what he gets. Brother Headstrong is not a square 


1 1 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


man, and he has no more sense than my old boot; nobody 
has any faith in his words. He has a boy that he thinks 
very smart; but I regard him as a soft-head. The boy has 
made some signs and scratches, and he and some other fel- 
low correspond with them on postal-cards. Because he does 
this, they think him very smart. I’d like to know how a boy 
could be considered smart for corresponding in a language 
that nobody knows anything about, except himself and some 
other fellow just as foolish. I am sure that the people 
around here will join me in saying that all the Headstrong 
family haven’t brains enough to last them over night. Of 
course, you couldn’t make him believe it; he thinks he is the 
greatest man around here. He tells everybody that with- 
out him the church in Mazar couldn’t possibly stand. On 
the contrary, nobody of common-sense believes it can stand 
with him. It beats all to see what church officers you have 
in Mazar. What a trio, Headstrong, Meekface, and Fraud- 
ulent! I tell you what it is, the church that stands on such 
a foundation, stands on the sand, and must fall, when the 
winds blow and the rains descend. And I say, let it fall. 

“ Brother Headstrong has a near neighbor who used to 
be in the church, and he’s one of the very best fellows in 
the whole community. In the church, he used to be quite 
active, doing whatever his hand found to do, working like a 
member of the Lord’s kingdom should work. How did 
Headstrong treat him ? He had a favorite dog, a very rare 
kind, and one which a man would be proud to own any- 
where; and out of mere envy, the old Headstrong, because 
he didn’t possess such a one himself, shot him, pretend- 
ing he was worrying some of his sheep. In this way, by 
one act after another, Headstrong drove him out of the 
church; for how could any man remain in a church, where 
he received such treatment from the hands of the very pillar 
of it! From that time to this, he regards Headstrong as the 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


113 

very image of sin; which, I think, is a merciful judgment, 
for I sometimes imagine he is sin itself.” 

“ But, Mr. Squareman, would it not be best for you to 
go to these men of whom you are speaking, make your 
complaint known to them, and endeavor to come to an 
understanding ? ” 

“ I have tried that often enough, brother Bray. I 
wouldn’t say what I have, if I didn’t hope that you might 
be able to get them to see their wickedness, and get their 
heart changed.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Squareman; I shall always do the little 
I can to bring about harmony among my people. But in 
speaking of others, I know of only one just rule: never speak 
evil of others, except before their face. There may be ex- 
ceptions to this rule, Mr. Squareman; but I am sure, if you 
and I should act according to it, it would be very much 
better. I have no doubt you have grievances against the 
men you speak of; but did you ever think that, in their 
heart, they believe they have equal grievances against you ? 
I visit their homes, and without a doubt they speak of your 
ill-treatment of them. In such case, what can I do ? I do 
believe that if you brethren were to meet one another in a 
conciliatory spirit, you would find most of your reasons for 
ill-feeling would disappear, as snow before the sun. If you 
yourself would only go half way, I think your apparent 
enemies would come to meet you.!’ 

“ Yes, brother Bray; that may be. But the truth is, I 
have all I can do to attend to my own affairs. I wouldn’t go 
the length of my nose to meet a man like Meekface, whom I 
consider as surly as my dog.” 

“ But, Mr. Squareman, I ask you not to do this for your 
own sake, but for the sake of Christ and his church. Surely, 
if we are not willing to forgive, we can not expect to be for- 
given. We pray to be forgiven, as we forgive others.” 

8 


1 14 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

“ Yes, brother Bray, but you don’t catch me kneeling to 
such men as those; nor have I any desire to open my mouth, 
simply to fill the mouths of others. Besides, you don’t 
know a half of it, and I haven’t time to tell you.” 

“ No, brother Bray,” said Mrs. Squareman, “ you don't 
know a half of our trouble. Only a few days ago Mrs. 
Meekface said she would never forgive me for all the lies I 
had told about her. God knows I haven’t told any lies. For 
all the evil that woman has said of me, I am willing and do 
now freely forgive her. She can curse, but God will bless ; 
she can pray for evil to overtake me, but it will only bring 
down fire upon her own head. God knows those that are 
his, and He knows me. I have given my case to Him.” 

“ But, Mrs. Squareman,” said Sunshine, “ is it not possi- 
ble that Mrs. Meekface feels just as you do about it ? that 
she is the injured party, and you the transgressor? It may 
be that if you should go to Mrs. Meekface, and deny that 
you had ever intentionally injured her, she would say the 
same of herself in regard to you. Then each of you 
seeing that there was no real ground for offence, would 
forget the past, and be friendly with each other.” 

“ It is possible, sister Bray, but I couldn’t possibly be- 
lieve it, after doing all I have done. I won’t give up trying 
though ; I pray for her every day that God may give her a 
better heart, and open her eyes that she may see her evil 
ways.” 

On leaving the residence of Mr. Squareman, Sunshine 
and myself thought, that though we had lost hospitable 
hosts, we had found relief from spirits full of fault-finding 
and bitter complaint. We felt greatly discouraged ; but we 
were not without that which Thales said was the greatest of 
all possessions — hope. 

A few days after our visit at the house of Mr. Square- 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 115 

man, we called on the Meekface family. During our visit 
Mr. Meekface said : 

“ You have been lately calling on brother Squareman ; so 
I heard one of our neighbors say.” 

“ Yes, sir,” I replied ; “ we were there about a week ago.” 

“ You must have found them delightful company,” he 
continued. “ We’re not able to live in such a fine house as 
they ; I don’t know how it is, unless they are blessed for 
their liberality.” 

“ A fine house is nothing to me, Mr. Meekface. I would 
greatly prefer to have my soul well clothed than my body. 
Do not trouble yourself too much about the inferior charac- 
ter of your house. Make the best of what you have. You 
know the silver and the gold are the Lord’s.” 

“ Yes, brother Bray ; but if all were to sing that tune, the 
preacher wouldn’t get very fat. He would be one of the 
lean kind.” 

“ If a minister labors faithfully, Mr. Meekface, I should 
say he was worthy of his hire.” 

“ Yes, brother Bray ; but some don’t see it in that light. 
Everybody uses his own eyes, and some folks around here, 
may be, are color-blind.” 

“ Everybody,” I replied, “ should make the best use of 
his own eyes ; but if they be defective, he should be led by 
the eyes of others, or he will fall into the ditch.” 

“ Then some folks, brother Bray, must soon be in the 
ditch. The truth is, it is next to impossible to get one cent 
out of the Squareman family, for the support of the minis- 
ter. He owes five dollars now ; but he’ll never pay it. He 
never has anything for church-work, but a plenty to fix his 
house up with. If he paid as we, he wouldn’t have a better 
house than other folks. I know it’s hard to speak evil of 
others ; but I speak for his good. I do hope you’ll succeed 


n6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


in getting some spiritual life into that man ; but if you do, 
you’ll do something that nobody else has been able to do. 

“ No doubt you’ve heard many things about us, but he 
can’t say any evil ; and, besides, nobody has any faith in his 
word. If you could hear Mrs. Squareman pray, you would 
think she was a saint ; but nothing but a miracle can ever 
save that woman. They have oily tongues, and keep them 
running all the day long ; and I guess they’ll never stop 
running, until they’re worn out. It’s a great pity they’re in 
the church. To have such people in the church, is like a 
drowning man having a lump of lead tied around his neck. 
Some folks think that Mrs. Squareman is out of her head, 
and I’m inclined to think that she is. A saint to-day, she 
has seven devils to-morrow. If you cast them out, you’ll 
do well. If the devil isn’t their governor, then I don’t know 
for the life of me, who can be. He brags all the time of be- 
ing a square man ; but a more one-sided genius never lived 
anywhere. I have been here a good many years, have 
labored in every way to build up our little church, have 
given money that should have been kept for my own family, 
have labored in the Sunday-school, and gone night after 
night to the protracted meetings, trying in every way to 
bring the folks into the church ; but as far as I can see, 
there’s no use in trying to do anything, where such folks are 
all the time hard at work pulling down.” 

“ Mr. Meekfasce, believe me, you have no need to sup- 
pose that my judgment is formed of one of my people, from 
what I hear another say of him. I assure you, my respect 
for you has not been lessened, by what I may have heard 
from the lips of others about you. I have found it is a very 
untrustworthy foundation to base a judgment upon. In 
reference to Mr. Squareman, it may be, he is a weak brother, 
and you a strong one. In such case, perhaps, you could 
help him by reaching out a kind hand to save. A kind 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


117 


word, an affectionate greeting, a brotherly grasp of the 
hand, these can restore, when nothing else can save. I so 
much wish you could help Mr. Squareman to a better view 
of things, and that you could work together. My own 
hands are weak, and my heart sometimes seem to fail within 
me. If only we could get rid of some of our fault-finding 
spirit ! ” 

“ I’m not fault-finding, brother Bray ; but as far as 
Squareman goes, I’ve done my last for him.” 

Weary, wounded and worn, we left the house and sought 
the shelter of our humble little parsonage. Just before 
coming to the door, we were met by Mr. Popelover. I re- 
mained to talk with him, but Sunshine entered the house to 
prepare the tea. 

“How do you do, elder? I am very glad to see you. 
You’re come to a pretty tough place here. It doesn’t con- 
cern me, I’ll admit; but I can’t very well help sympathizing 
with a minister who comes here. Some years ago the peo- 
ple here had a very good kind of a man to preach to them; 
but they rewarded him by starving him out. He had to carry 
material to build his own stable. He had a young wife who 
was treated barbarously. The poor fellow appeared heart- 
broken. He stood it a short time, when, utterly disgusted 
with the whole business, he left the ministry, and went on a 
farm. I think he showed good sense. The last preacher 
they had here, appeared to me to be a woman; the one be- 
fore I regarded as a very dishonest man. When I know a 
man to be dishonest, I know it. You have plenty of such 
characters in your church. I know some of them who go 
over yonder to pray, after they’ve turned their stock into 
my corn-field. I suppose the consciousness that their cattle, 
are doing well, enables them to pray fervently. I haven’t 
much faith in such prayers. I met brother Fraudulent the 
other day, and said: ‘ Brother Fraudulent, suppose a man 


1 18 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


should steal a span of my horses, can he get forgiveness 
without returning them ? ’ ‘ Most certainly,’ he said. * A man 
is forgiven not for what he does, but because he believes in 
Christ. We are saved by faith.’ I told him if that was 
Methodism, I wanted nothing to do with it; and that if it 
were Christianity, the sooner it were put down the better.” 

“ Mr. Popelover, you are a Roman Catholic. You must 
know yourself the conditions of divine forgiveness. Either 
you misunderstood Mr. Fraudulent, or he has misinformed 
you as to the doctrines of Methodism. If you will promise 
me to come to services next Sunday, I will undertake to tell 
you at that time what my own ideas on the subject are.” 

“ With that understanding, elder, I will promise you to 
be at the church next Sunday.” 

The sermon in question I based upon the words found in 
Matthew v, 23-24. I was afterwards sorry to find that 
some of the members took great offence at my remarks. 
Mr. Headstrong ceased to come to church. Seeing this, I 
determined to call on him, and inquire why he was absent. 
Knocking at his door, I was received with apparent cordial- 
ity. As soon as I could with propriety, I said: 

“ Mr. Headstrong, I have missed your familiar face at 
the church. Have you been unwell ? ” 

“ If you had my rheumatics, brother Bray, I guess you’d 
find out. I’m in for the meeting all the time. There’s not 
a man in Mazar that’s worked for it as I have. I’ve often 
gone, and left my wife exposed to dangers, and in floods of 
tears; but a crying woman is nothing to me, when the meet- 
ing is concerned.” 

“ I could hardly approve such conduct, Mr. Headstrong. 
The first duty we have, is to take care of those who depend on 
us. I would not leave my family exposed to danger, to at- 
tend meetings.” 

“ Angels can keep us from dashing our foot against a 


■r 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


119 


stone, brother Bray; God can protect his own. I don’t be- 
lieve in pleasing the whims of a woman, when the well- 
being of heaven calls me away. I believe in trusting Provi- 
dence; he who doesn’t, lacks true, saving faith. Such a 
one should get converted, before he goes out into God’s 
vineyard to convert others. We must first have the power 
ourselves.” 

“ But, Mr. Headstrong, would it not be as reasonable to 
say that he who trusts Providence to do for him what he 
might do for himself, lacks common-sense ? And what is 
the use of faith without common-sense?” 

“ I’ve old notions, brother Bray, and they have come to 
me through experience; I got some of them out in Califor- 
nia, after I had crossed the plains. I don’t want any of 
your untried opinions. Some young fellows think they are 
right smart; but men of experience don’t want no time to 
take the conceit out of them. In business matters I do as 
well as the best of them, and in speritual things I can beat 
them any time. There’s lots of book-larning in the world, 
but ’tisn’t worth nothing; such folks quarrel with Provi- 
dence every day. They are very smart in their way: they 
insure their lives and their houses. You don’t catch me in- 
suring my life. What is insurance, if it isn’t quarreling 
with God! No, indeed! Headstrong isn’t found wasting his 
money in insurance. God insures me and mine; that’s good 
enough for me. I don’t believe that a man who insures his 
life, has the sperit of God in him. How can we expect to 
enter the kingdom, if we fight like that against the ways of 
Providence ! Again, some folks keep organs and dolls for 
their cheldern. This is the sin of Israel, worshipping idols. 
No organ in Headstrong’s house; no dolls for my cheldern. 
Them’s my opinions all the time, and they’re come to me 
through hard experience. I’ve been a class-leader for many 
years, and have come to this knowledge through powerful, 


120 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


internal reasoning. The devil and all his sooty hosts 
couldn’t never change me a particle. When I say a thing, I 
say it; when I know a thing, I know it; and Headstrong 
knows two or three things. Tell you what, brother Bray: 
you might get brother Squareman, or somebody of his kind, 
to accept your doctrine ; but nobody with the sperit won’t. 
A man strong in speritual things, strong in the faith, and led 
bv the Sperit, isn’t going to be moved an inch by your 
views. I wish you hadn’t preached that sermon on the 
‘Conditions of Divine Forgiveness.’ You greatly offended 
some who are led by the Sperit. Brother Fraudulent was 
mighty displeased. You stepped on many a toe by saying 
what you said. But the one most offended, is brother 
Fraudulent; for everybody knows you meant him.” 

“ Mr. Headstrong, you are making serious charges against 
Mr. Fraudulent. What right have you, or anybody else, to 
say that I referred to him in my sermon ? ” 

“ Because everybody knows right well that brother Fraud- 
ulent done to Mr. Popelover, just what you said ; and that’s 
the way that Fraudulent was so angry.” 

“ Mr. Headstrong, simply because I happened to speak 
of a sin which you say Mr. Fraudulent had been guilty of, 
no one could therefore rightly infer that I alluded to him. 
Such a conclusion would be very unjust, whether made by you 
or any other. But supposing I did know it. Should I be- 
cause of that knowledge cease to rebuke such sins ? If so, 
it would follow that I should cease to speak of any sin what- 
ever, since it is quite possible there is no sin that has not 
been committed by somebody.” 

“ Brother Fraudulent don’t believe in preachers meddling 
with the business of the members. And I might as well tell 
you, brother Bray, that brother Meekface supports him in 
his views. They both say that the preacher is a thing that 
is here to-day and gone to-morrow, but that the members 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


I 2 I 


are fixed. Because of this, the preachers don’t know enough 
about matters to speak of business actions. They say they 
never heered your equal as a preacher, when you stick to 
the Gospel, and tell those sinners, those folks outside the 
church, the great danger they’re in ; but that you know 
nothing about trading in horses, nor selling corn and wheat. 
Fraudulent is ashamed to go around, since you preached 
that sermon. As things are, I can’t never hope for a glorious 
revival.” 

“ Mr. Headstrong, when the hub is rotten, the wheel car- 
ries but little ; he who has a beam in his own eye, should 
not counsel others to take a mote out of theirs ; a man with 
a legion of devils, should not seek to exorcise him possessed 
only of one. The first duty is for the chief members of the 
church to get within themselves a revival, a revival of hon- 
esty and truth. This being done, we should have reason to 
expect others would begin.” 

“ I find you are fixed in the error of your ways, brother 
Bray ; and I’m sure you can’t change any of my views. I 
prophesy, though, that you would do better in this circuit, if 
you had a leetle more of the Sperit in the inner-man : and 
a leetle less of book-larning in the outer. I can’t come to 
church, where I hear the cheldern of Zion held up for the 
cheldern of this wicked world to laugh at. I like the 
preacher to tell sinners what they must do to be saved. 
This makes the old warrior’s heart rejoice ; but I can’t 
stand it, to see the cheldern of Zion hang down their heads.” 

As I left this man, I could but feel contempt as well as pity 
for him. While boasting of dwelling in the very fulness of 
light, he was shockingly irreverent with God, and most 
abusive to others, especially if they dared to differ with him. 
Nor could I fail to recall the lines : 


122 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“To make the lips 

Of truth speak falsehood ; to their own liking 
Turn the meaning of the text, 

And prove their reasoning best, 

Though propped on fancies wild as madmen’s dreams.” 

As I walked along pondering on the ignorance and super- 
stition of the people I ministered to, I was met by Mr. Truth- 
seeker : 

“ How do you do, elder. Your sermon has created quite 
a sensation in Mazar. Everybody has something to say 
about it. It was enough to make any man think, and I for 
one didn’t escape. Two or three of your members, how- 
ever, are greatly offended. They have their old notions, and 
would as soon part with their lives, as part with them. I 
have heard it said that they won’t pay any more toward your 
support ; but of one thing I am sure : you have the hearts 
of nearly all the community, and will have their support. I 
have heard some men say that they would give their last 
dollar rather than see you leave Mazar. So I guess you 
have no need to feel discouraged. Those who are offended, 
are of very little account here, even though they are the 
centre of your praying-band. If you could only succeed in 
getting them converted, there would be some hopes for 
Methodism in this place ; as it is, it is a laughing-stock. 
Since you have been here, there’s a class of men coming to 
church, that never came before. It is something novel, 
you know, to hear it taught that it is the character, the 
moral uprightness of the man, which determines his accept- 
ability with God. I am not a member of any church, and 
never shall be, until it assents to doctrine like I hear you 
preach. You may take my word for it, — the community 
here approves your course. Here comes a man unlike my- 
self. He is a member of the Baptist Church. Let us hear 
what he has to say about it. He heard your sermon.” 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


123 


“ Good morning, elder,” said Mr. Workandpray. “That 
was a powerful discourse you gave us on the ‘ Conditions of 
Divine Forgiveness.’ It went to the point. Whether or not 
it may be considered as exactly like what is generally 
preached, I declare it seems to me the only sensible sermon 
on the subject I ever heard. But I tell you, elder, it made 
some fellows kick mighty hard. Speaking of your principal 
members, elder, makes me think of the time I first came 
here. Having attended the services one evening, I happened 
to hear Mrs. Squareman pray, who was then a stranger to 
me. I was mighty struck with her prayer, and on going 
home with Mr. Meekface, asked him who was that woman 
that made that fine prayer. ‘ She must be a fine character ’ 
I said.” 

“ ‘ I thought so myself once,’ he said ; * but as you are a 
stranger here, my advice to you is, have nothing to do with 
that woman. She’s a whited sepulchre.’ 

‘ Not long after this, elder, Mr. Outspoken went to the 
residence of Mr. and Mrs. Squareman to board, until he 
could get his own place a little fixed up. Well, he said 
that back-biting commenced at supper-table, and continued 
till bed-time, when they would take down the big Bible and 
have evening prayers. Mr. Outspoken protested against 
this. He said he didn’t see no use in back-biting one moment, 
and going to prayers the next. He thought the two didn’t 
work well together. But what he said, had but little effect 
on their tongues. They told him that they held up the 
people whom they wore speaking about, as a warning to 
others. 

“ I tell you, elder, you must not care what such charac- 
ters say or do. They are well known here ; and they are 
regarded as spotted sheep. The worst they can do to you, 
is to refuse to pay their subscriptions. If you offend them, 
they will likely do this ; but something should be done to 


124 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


stir them up. You have a good and honest name now. 
Don’t lose it for fear of them. If you lose their support, 
you gain that of other men, men like Loveright and Godsave- 
all ; and they are better able to support you than any of 
your members.” 

As I passed into the little parsonage, Sunshine met me at 
the door, and said : 

“Harry, Mrs. Fencestridler has been visiting me. She 
made many apologies for not calling before, and left all 
these things you see here, to fill up our cupboard with. £he 
said it was a treat to hear you preach; and that the people out 
at Woodland, were longing for you to come out there. I do 
think, Harry, that a good many people here are so kind, 
especially those outside the church. I do believe that such 
people are kinder to you and me than those who call them- 
selves members of God’s kingdom.” 

“ Such is not strange, my darling. It was in a measure 
true with Christ : He came to his own, and they received 
him not. I certainly could not stand the actions I have 
seen in many of the people of my charge, were it not for 
your presence. I sometimes feel almost in despair ; but as 
soon as I come under your beams, I feel hopeful. The life 
I receive from you, gives me energy to battle under diffi- 
culties, however great, for the sake of the beautiful being 
called by my name. When I want to feast on you, I stand 
and gaze, lost in wonder at the beauty and loveliness of your 
form, and unable to express my thoughts in words. My love 
for you is too deep, my admiration l$>r you too high, to ex- 
press in any language. I seem to have a richer feast by 
silently watching you ; and I feel, as it were, afraid to let 
my thoughts loose, lest the air carry them to others, and 
they share with me the feast I enjoy. I suppose it is selfish 
with me ; but so it is.” 

“ All very nice, Harry ; but still I prefer your words to 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


125 


your looks. I want both, but especially the former. When 
you speak, my whole being trembles with joy ; when you 
look, it is all attention. The former state gives the highest 
bliss. I am sure I would like you to speak of me, even 
though I were dead. I fancy, could I hear you after death, 
I should experience a peculiar pleasure, in hearing your lips 
murmur the name of ‘ Sunshine. ’ For nearly two years you 
have made my life a sunshine. If it be God’s will, I would 
likaito grow old with you, and fall asleep together; if this 
be not granted me, then let me die with my head resting on 
your breast. And, surely, this life is not all ! After death 
we shall continue to be ; and if that be so, then will Sun- 
shine, if she die before you, be always awaiting your 
arrival. I would not be willing to die, if I thought I should 
never again see you. ” 

“ Such a spirit as thine, Sunshine, I cannot believe will 
die ; it could not have been made to die eternally, or sleep 
the sleep of death. Rather shall thy sun shine on, brighter 
and brighter, after all earthly suns have ceased to shed their 
light ; for thou shalt have gone to be nearer to that One 
Infinite Sun, the Life, the Savior, and the Father of all. Let 
me ask you to sing the song I so much love, and which you 
used to sing for me, when I was paying my addresses to 
you. ” 

“What one do you mean, Harry ? Do you mean, ‘Shall 
we meet beyond the river ? ’ ” 

“ Yes, darling, that isjthe song I mean. ” 

Shall we meet beyond the river, where the surges cease to roll, 

Where in all the bright forever, sorrow ne’er shall press the soul ? 

Shall we meet in that blest harbor, when our stormy voyage is o’er, 
Shall we meet, and cast our anchor, by the fair celestial shore ? 

Where the music of the ransomed, rolls in harmony around, 

And creation swells the chorus with its sweet melodious sound ? 


126 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Shall we meet with many a loved one torn on earth from our embrace, 

Shall we listen to their voices, and behold them face to face ? 

Shall we meet with Christ our Savior, when he comes to claim his own ? 

Shall we hear him bid us welcome, and sit down upon his throne ? 

“ Such words as that song contains, are very comforting, 
in a world so full of death as ours. I would not like to live 
without faith in the immortality of the soul, Sunshine. Here, 
I fancy, we scarcely begin to know, to love, or to do. ,We 
come into the world infants physically, and leave it infants 
mentally and spiritually. Few there are of those who have 
lived, who before death, attained to anything like spiritual 
symmetry, or soundness ; and I am sure that the wisest man 
that has ever lived, has felt, at the time of death, that all 
his learning seemed nothing, as he thought of the vast fields 
beyond, which he longed to explore. It takes a life-time to 
make a beginning in the world of knowledge. Is it possi- 
ble that so fair and promising a flower must be cut off in its 
bud ! Nature herself seems to say, it cannot be so. ” 

“ Harry, I hear some talk about revival- services. Are you 
going to have them this winter or not ? ” 

“ I hardly know, Sunshine, what to say. I have never 
been in favor of such services, as you know. But what 
deters me most, is not that I myself am opposed to them in 
principle ; but the unfitness of the men I have to aid me. 
The report is that, unless I do institute revival-services, our 
disaffected members will join the Baptist effort to get up 
one, more, of course, to offend me than to aid the Baptists. 
Yet, I do not think I shall begin them ; and if I do not, I am 
sure I shall not take any part in those instituted by the Bap- 
tists, knowing, as I do, their feeling towards us. The only 
trouble I fear, lies in the fact that we have always been de- 
pending on the good-will of the Baptists for a house to wor- 
ship in ; and I suppose, on my refusal to join them in their 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


127 


revival effort, they will deny me the use of their house. I 
believe our disaffected members would even advise them to 
do so. So you see, Sunshine, they have the advantage of 
us ; nevertheless, I do not think they can frighten me into 
such work.” 

As I had suspected, the latter part of January, 1876, Mr. 
Selfimportant, a leading member of the Baptist society, rose 
in his seat, after the close of our services, and informed us 
that* being about to begin revival-meetings, the Baptists 
would want the exclusive use of the house for six or eight 
weeks. 

On my way to the parsonage, I was accompanied by Mr. 
Loveright who said : “ Don’t you mind them, Mr. Bray. I 

heard even one of their own members say, a day or two ago, 
that if they closed the door against you, he would break it 
in. Those revival -services are a disgrace to any commun- 
ity. I remember one that was held where I lived, some 
years ago. The services were a grand success, many people 
having been converted, for the leaders were said to speak 
with great unction. Everything went on most promisingly. 
One night the leaders failed to put in their appearance. 
People wondered what had become of the mighty workers 
who had wrought such wonders among the people of the 
church. The next morning, however, their wondering 
ceased : for a great many went to the stables to find their 
best horses missing. The leaders of the revivalists were 
nothing but a band of horse-thieves. I and my wife knew 
a very successful revivalist who generally ended his work by 
seducing one or two young girls. I often wonder why men 
can put confidence in such men. Who knows them ? 
Nobody. They pass through the country like meteors, and 
disappear the same way. A minister living among us, is a 
person we know. We can hold him accountable for his 
actions ; but with revivalists, unless in special cases, we can 


128 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


absolutely do nothing. How can we tell the character of a 
man who comes from a distance, and known by nobody in 
the community ? I have learned that a man can weep, and 
pray and shout, and still be a devil. I am one of those who 
have no faith whatever in revivalists, and I hope you will 
have nothing to do with revivals.” 

“I hardly know what to do, Mr. Loveright. I shall 
calmly think the matter over, and what I think is best, that 
will I do, cost what it may.” 

“ I tell you, elder, a revival-meeting would never have 
been thought of in this place, this winter, were it not for 
Mr. Headstrong. He is very angry with you, because you 
have not permitted him to blow his horn, as much as he 
wished to. Although a very ignorant man, he is a mischiev- 
ous one, and delights in doing all he can to injure those who 
cross him in the least. One year, he is a Methodist ; next, 
he’s a Baptist ; God knows what he’ll be in the end.” 

The last Sunday I preached in the Baptist meeting-house, 
a disgraceful scene occurred : I had announced the ser- 
vices for the following Sunday, Mr. Selfimportant having 
promised Mr. Loveright, during the preceding week, that we 
should have the use of the house on that day. After the an- 
nouncement had been made, Mr. Selfimportant arose in his 
seat, and stated it would be impossible for us to have the 
use of the house, the following Sunday, as the Baptist re- 
vival-services would begin at that time. “ Did you not,” I 
said, “ promise Mr. Loveright that we should have the house 
on that day ? ” 

“ No, sir,” he replied, “ I did not.” 

I then called on Mr. Loveright to arise, and state the 
facts, as they occurred. 

“ Mr. Selfimportant did promise me last week, that you 
should have the use of the house next Sunday.” 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


129 


“ I didn’t promise no such thing,” retorted Mr. Selfim- 
portant, “ and it’s a lie to say I did.” 

“ It looks as if a lie had been coined by somebody,” I re- 
plied ; “ we will let it with the congregation to decide, they 
knowing the two men, who has done the coining.” I then 
announced that in the future our services would be held in 
the parsonage. The whole second floor being unpartitioned, 
it provided us with a large room having a capacity about 
equal to that of the Baptist meeting-house. 

Messrs. Loveright, Truthseeker, Godsaveall and others 
worked hard during the week, preparing the room for the 
following Sunday’s services ; and through their faithful 
efforts, we were provided with a comfortable room, and I 
stood on independent ground. 

It being fully known that I had refused to take any part 
in revival-work, our disaffected members worked, for a short 
time, with the Baptists, when they persuaded the Methodist 
preacher who was stationed at Farmerville, to come to 
Mazar, and institute revival-meetings. He came and labored 
for a time. On calling on me, I charged him with a breach of 
pulpit etiquette, and with dishonorable conduct. 

“ I am sorry, Mr. Bray,” he said, “that I was ever fooled 
into coming here, especially without your invitation. I see 
I have done wrong. I hope you will forgive me ; I will do 
no more of it.” 

“ My dear, Mr. Snoodwinkle,” I replied, “ I certainly 
shall forgive you ; but I cannot understand why so-called 
ministers of the Gospel can be guilty of doing what you have 
done. I am unable to explain it except on the ground that 
the power which calls them to preach, is the pocket-book 
rather than the Holy Ghost. In my own simplicity I refused a 
lucrative position for the sake of preaching ; but what do I 
see among my so-called brethren, but a race after a few 
dollars.” 


9 


130 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ I don’t know, brother Bray, how you feel about it,” he 
replied ; “ but if I could get more money in any other hon- 
est calling, I should feel it my duty to get it.” 

This saying surprised Sunshine and myself, especially 
since he had said, only the night before, that the Holy Ghost 
had called him to preach the Gospel of the kingdom. Since 
that, however, I have learned that the Holy Ghost of very 
many ministers, is the pocket-book and nothing else. And 
I verily believe that, if ministers were to ^et less money and 
acquire less prominence than men in other vocations, the 
churches would nearly all be closed, and Christianity, as such, 
be a thing of the past, in less than a century. 

With the exception of Mr. Headstrong, our disaffected 
members worked in union with the Baptists but a very short 
time. Jealousy and strife soon put an end to all possibilities 
of union effort. 

One evening I visited the revival-meeting for the purpose 
of removing Mr. Headstrong from his position as class- 
leader. The house was like a pandemonium : it was full of 
giggling and groaning ; and over all the maddening scene 
were cast the eyes of the lustful evangelist raving with the 
insanity of religious excitement. 

Approaching Mr. Truthseeker, the evangelist said : 

“ Young man, do you love God ? ” 

“ I do,” was the reply ; “ do you ? ” 

“ Do I ! ” said the evangelist ; “ I am perfect in love. I 
love God with all my soul, with all my strength, with all my 
mind, and with all my heart, and my neighbor as myself.” 

“ I don’t believe you,” was the retort. “ You seem to 
be too proud of your attainments, to have much purity of 
heart.” 

“ You mustn’t be so hot, young man,” replied the evan- 
gelist. “ I am older than you, and can teach you in these 
matters, since I am taught by the Holy Ghost.” 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 13 1 

“ I am not certain,” replied Mr. Truthseeker, “ how much 
you know about holy things, if you mean shotes and horses; 
but I am certain you have never learned good manners, nor 
how to behave as a gentleman. If you had, you would 
never have filled the pulpit, at a time when it was promised 
another.” 

“ I am an evangelist, young man, and never allow my 
pulpit to be filled by another who might interfere with my 
methods, and deny my doctrines.” 

“You may be sure he would,” was the reply, “ for no 
man, professing to be a gentleman, could see your methods, 
and hear your insane utterances, without branding you what 
you are, — an ignorant scoundrel.” 

“I reckon, young man, you’re a leetle off ; I will call on 
you again, when your right reason returns, if the day of 
grace isn’t passed.” 

“ I am open to an interview,” retorted Mr. Truthseeker, 
“if you come looking like a decent man ; but with your 
present appearance, I can’t promise you one.” 

Leaving Mr. Truthseeker, the evangelist approached the 
young Mr. Loveright : 

“ Young man,” he said, “ I’ve saw you here a right good 
number of evenings. Are you seeking ? can’t I persuade 
you to come forward.” 

“ Don’t bring your mouth so near mine,” replied Mr. 
Loveright ; “you smell too much of the weed.” 

“ Young man ! don’t you think that you’re a leetle 
saucy ? ” 

“ Not so much as you are impertinent,” answered the 
young man. “ I profess to be a temperate man, and don’t 
wish to be intoxicated by your drunken spirit and tobacco- 
soaked soul. The room is big enough for both ; keep your 
distance.” 


I 3 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


At another time the evangelist approached Mr. Freund, 
and said : 

“ Say, young man, I want to see you become converted, 
and happy like me.” 

“That’s all good enough,” said Mr. Freund, “but I 
really consider myself so much better than you, that I 
should deem it an unpardonable sin in me, to become as you 
are.” 

The evangelist then took the platform, and made an 
address in which he sec forth all the imaginary terrors of 
the dying-bed, the woes of the damned, and the wrath of 
God against the unrepentent. Of these he painted such an 
awful picture that none could look on it, without feeling a 
thrill of horror pass through himself. 

During the evening Miss Meekface approached Miss 
Godsaveall, and was persuading her to go forward, when, 
it being seen by Mr. Godsaveall, he said : 

“ Miss Meekface ! you dare approach my daughter again 
with any more of your lying inventions, and corruptions of 
the truth, and I will teach you a lesson, you will not be apt 
to forget. How dare you make such a farce of religion ! We 
are not come here to receive help from you or your kind, 
but to witness to what depths of ignorance and superstition 
such as you may be reduced.” 

Mr. Godsaveall spoke so loudly that he attracted the at- 
tention of the house, at which the evangelist arose and said : 
“ Brethren, to your knees ! The devil is in the house; he is 
hardening the hearts of the wicked ; he is hindering the 
work of the Holy Ghost ; he must be cast out by the way he 
came in.” 

Mr. Godsaveall was a conspicuous man in Mazar, noted 
for his integrity and gentlemanly conduct. That such a 
man should be classed with devils, was more than the people 
could stand. Quite a tumult arose ; and such a feeling of 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


*33 


discord was engendered in the hearts of the praying band, 
that any future success was made impossible. 

The result of these revival-meetings was what I had 
prophesied : jealousy, ill-feeling, and bitterness received a 
new lease of life ; and even those who had been the most 
friendly with the evangelist, could now be heard saying, he 
was a “ fool, ” a “ horse-trader, ” and a “ liar. ” 

Our services were never better attended than during the 
Baptist revival-meeting : it had no power to draw aw^y the 
better class of people. 

During those days it was gratifying to us to receive con- 
stant proofs of the people’s good-will, in the form of gifts of 
wood, coal, flour, etc. I give an example of the manner in 
which these presents were brought : 

“ Harry,” said Sunshine, “there is some one at the door.” 
On opening the door, I saw the hired man of Mr. Godspeed, 
who said : “ Elder, excuse me ; but Mr. Godspeed has sent 
me up with this bag of flour, and this five-dollar bill, as part 
payment for the sermon you gave last night, the best, he 
says, he ever heard in his life. He also wishes me to say 
that there’s more where this comes from.” 

Shortly afterwards another knock was heard. This time 
it was Mr. Loveright who had come to see us : 

“Well, elder,” he began, “I thought I would come down 
to inquire if you wanted anything like coal or wood, or any- 
thing I might be able to get for you. I have never, in all 
my life, taken such interest in religious matters ; and the 
reason is, because of the wholesome sense you give us in 
your sermons. I can accept your doctrine, and so can any 
man of common-sense. What have you lost, elder, by 
doing as you have done ? You have lost three howling, 
ignorant hypocrites, while you have gained almost every 
thinking man in Mazar, and you have received two dollars 
for every one you would have received, had you done other- 


134 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


wise. The leading men in this church, elder, are certainly 
unworthy of conspicuous places, except in gangs of notor- 
ious characters. Have you ever heard that Mr. Smalleyes is 
believed to be guilty of murder ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I heard it a little after coming here ; but I 
know nothing of the truth of such report. It is a very 
serious charge to make.” 

“ There are a great many here who believe the charge is 
true, elder. Mr. Allimmersion and Hardtocrack who were 
among the very earliest settlers here, affirm the truth of the 
report. They say he has put two men out of the way, one 
being a laborer to whom he was in debt more than a hun- 
dred dollars, the other, a cattle-dealer.” 

“It is a terrible accusation,” I replied. “One of our 
members wished to have the charges investigated ; but I 
know of no sufficient grounds for bringing charges against 
Mr. Smalleyes.” 

“ One thing is sure, elder : you have a class of men for 
church officers, whom nobody will trust, and who will not 
trust one another ; a class of men known to be among the 
most dishonest in the whole community. Ever since I’ve 
been here, I’ve seen nothing but dishonesty among the chief 
members; and the preachers whom they have sent here, 
have been but a little better. Only a few days ago, Mr. 
Godspeed sent out his man to purchase wheat. He bought 
a fine lot of Mr. Fraudulent, and paid the cash down. On 
delivery, the first load was found to be as purchased, the 
second load proved to be mixed. Hastening to the resi- 
dence of Mr. Fraudulent, the miller obtained conclusive 
proof that Fraudulent had brought a pile of poor wheat 
from an adjoining room, and mixed it with the good. The 
hired man was as angry as he could be, and wished Mr. 
Godspeed to go to law about the matter ; but Godspeed 
said : ‘ No ; but as long as I live, I will never buy a grain 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE 


135 


of wheat from that wicked knave again; ’ and every one 
knows that Godspeed means what he says. Now, this is 
just done by one of your principal men. Why ! I’m sure, 
if such things were done among the Blackfeet Indians, he 
doing it would be hung, as they would hang a horse-thief. 

“ The other night there was a prayer-meeting held across 
the road from us. During the evening, Headstrong made a 
long and seemingly earnest prayer in behalf of Squareman 
who was present. The latter was boiling with rage, while 
on his knees, at the thought that such a man should pray 
for him. After the close of the meeting, Squareman said : 

‘ I took no part in the meeting, nor did I blab about my 
conversion ; but, if I thought I wasn’t a hundred times bet- 
ter man than you are, Headstrong, I wouldn’t only leave the 
church, but I’d leave the world. You are, what you’ve 
always been — a snake in the grass ; but your bite can’t 
harm me. ’ 

“ Nor do the chief members at Moth do any better. A 
few days ago Smalleyes accused Woundedheart of stealing 
his whipple-tree, who replied to the accusation : ‘ You’re a 
liar ; and if you don’t leave my premises, I’ll boot you. ’ 
‘You’ll be booted in a few days,’ replied Smalleyes ; ‘ for I 
am going to have you up again ; and if this time I don’t fix 
you, then my name isn’t Smalleyes. ’ 

“ ‘ Once more I tell you, get off my premises, ’ said 
Woundedheart, ‘ or I’ll make mince-meat of you. ’ 

“ Smalleyes seemed disinclined to go, whereupon Wound- 
edheart struck him. They fought like tigers until Smalleyes 
was a sickening sight. After almost killing Smalleyes, 
Woundedheart went to the residence of Beereyed, the most 
familiar friend of Smalleyes. He found him and punished 
him most fearfully. Finally the youngest Beereyed attacked 
Woundedheart with an axe, and in this way rescued his 
father. This trouble will bring on more law-suits. My own 


136 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


belief is that no church can hope to prosper, while it has 
such characters for its leaders, characters who are a disgrace 
to any community. 

“ Elder, you’re going to have the quarterly meeting in a 
few days. Where is it to be held ? ” 

“ Well, sir,” I replied, “we have no choice. It must 
be held, where our services have been held for the last two 
months or more.” 

“ I have heard, elder, that the Baptists and your disaf- 
fected members will ask the presiding elder to hold it in the 
Baptist meeting-house. Further, I have heard from good 
authority that Headstrong has given the presiding elder ten 
dollars to hold it there.” 

“ I do not know, sir, what may have been done; I know 
what I shall do: I know if the meeting be not held, where I 
have announced it would be, that I will not attend it.” 

After Mr. Loveright had departed, I thought much about 
the impending conference; and I could not fail to see that 
it was more than possible the elder might decide to hold it 
in the Baptist meeting house. Before I retired to rest 
that night, I had clearly made up my mind what to do, 
had clearly marked out the path I would travel. There 
were three factors which brought me to the decision I made: 
I knew from nearly eight months’ experience that my prin- 
ciples were not such as would receive a general and ready 
acceptation among Methodists; I was not at all pleased with 
my own field of labor; I had received many solicitations to 
join the Episcopalians whose faith I believed more agreea- 
ble to me. With this knowledge, my decision was to leave 
the Methodist Episcopal Church forever, if the presiding 
elder should determine to hold the quarterly meeting in 
the Baptist meeting-house. Having been brought up in the 
English Church, I learned at an early age to admire her 
forms, and love her worship; and I thought, since the Epis- 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


*37 


copal Church is considered her ecclesiastical representa- 
tive, that the faith of the latter would be equally dear to me. 

Wednesday, April 4th, 1877, our quarterly meeting 
convened. The presiding elder, as I had feared, decided to 
hold it in the Baptist meeting-house, and sent requesting me 
to attend, and bring my quarterly report. I refused to do 
either. Finally, the preacher from Farmerville, the Rev. 
Mr. Snoodwinkle, came to'the parsonage, and used his per- 
suasive powers to get me over to the meeting; but I abso- 
lutely refused to attend. He then said that, if I would not 
come, the presiding elder would like him to carry over my 
report. I replied : 

“ Mr. Snoodwinkle, I will neither attend the presiding 
elder’s meeting, nor will I send my report; but I will send 
instead this written request by you, asking of the conference 
permission to withdraw from all connection with the minis- 
try and communion of the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
provided such withdrawal be consistent with the honor of 
myself and the church. I see no reason, sir, why such re- 
quest can not be granted; and it is the only favor I have to 
ask of the body from which I am determined to separate 
myself forever.” 

On the following day I received this note from the pre- 
siding elder : 

“ Farmerville, Jefferson, April 5th, 1877. 

“ Dear Mr. Bray : On yesterday afternoon brother 
Snoodwinkle presented your request to the conference for 
the privilege of withdrawing from the ministry and mem- 
bership of the Methodist Episcopal Church, provided you 
could do so with honor to yourself and the church. Your 
request was granted, and I then and there announced your 
connection with the M. E. Church, as a preacher and mem- 
ber as having ceased. Yours truly, 

“ S. W. Unrecht, (p. e.) ” 


138 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

My work in Methodism was now ended, and I felt glad 
at heart. Having had for some time many doubts con- 
cerning not a few of the fundamental doctrines of so- 
called evangelical theology, I felt great abhorrence toward 
the doctrine of salvation by faith, as generally taught and 
believed by Methodists. In my opinion such a doctrine was 
no less morally dangerous than philosphically absurd: mor- 
ally dangerous, because it confers on the unjust unmerited 
benefits, but fails to reward the really good and meritorious, 
therefore removing the only sufficient sanction for a virtu- 
ous life; and philosophically absurd, because it separates the 
shadow from the substance, and bases itself upon the magic 
of miracles. Says Aristotle: 

<c Mia %eXida)v eap 00 noiei, oode pia rjpepa. 6orio 8e oo8e 
paxapiov xai eodaipova pia rjpepa 008 9 oXiyos %povos. Eu Xeyerac 
ore ex zoo dixaia Ttparreiv 6 dixaios ytverai. Oox eir) 8'av oude 
Ti/i7jS a£ios (pavXos rys apezTjs yap aOXo\> ij ziprj } xai anovepezai 
rocs ayadois — One swallow does not make a spring, nor one 
day; nor does one day, nor a little time, make a man happy 
and blessed. It is well said that man becomes just from 
the practice of justice. Nor should a man who is base, be 
considered worthy of honor; for honor is the reward of vir- 
tue, and is assigned to the good.” (Nico. Eth. I, 7, 16; II, 
4, 5; IV, 3, 15.) But, unlike this rational teaching of Ar- 
istotle, the doctrine of salvation by faith, so prominent in 
Methodism^ teaches that the dying thief or murderer may 
by one act of faith be as worthy of entering into the heaven 
of heavens, as the most virtuous soul who has labored all 
his days to do good, and refrain from evil. More than this: 
it says that such thief or murderer may, by trusting in an- 
other’s righteousness, receive the reward of eternal life; 
whereas the morally pure and noble-minded, by trusting in his 
own righteousness and not in another’s, will be adjudged 
worthy of eternal damnation. The murderer or the vicious- 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


139 


minded cries to God, as such naturally would, for forgive- 
ness; and looking to Christ’s merit, he no sooner cries than, 
washed in the blood of the Lamb, he is made as white as 
snow, and fit for his heavenly home. But the murdered, 
cut off without warning, falls into outer darkness, where 
there shall be weeping and wailing and gnashingof teeth, to 
rise no more forever out of his deep, dark dungeon of pain 
and woe. Reason tells us that character should be the only 
test of moral worth, this doctrine denies it; reason tells us 
that purity of soul can only be attained to by long and per- 
sistent effort after the good; this doctrine holds it can be 
attained, without money and without price, in a moment, in 
the twinkling of an eye, even by one faithful look at the 
cross of Christ. Reason assures us that every man should 
be rewarded according to his own deeds; this doctrine 
teaches that man will receive the highest reward the Infinite 
One can bestow, not because of his own good deeds, but for 
the sake of those of another. Cicero teaches that eudaimo- 
nia or beata vita (true happiness) is the direct result of one’s 
own virtuous actions; but this doctrine teaches that the beata 
bita of Christ, which naturally resulted to him from his own 
beautiful and virtuous life, may be miraculously mine by im- 
putation, no matter how degrading my life may have been; 
that is, it teaches that the shadow may exist apart from the 
substance. As well might we teach the existence of a # child 
without a parent, or of a product without its factors. I 
could not, I can not, accept such a ruinous doctrine. I did 
believe, I do believe, that no man can be saved in this world, 
and, therefore, in no other, by any righteousness excepting 
his own. This righteousness I believed then, as I believe 
now, is produced by doing well from noble motives. I 
could not help accepting the teaching of Aristotle, which 
is simply the teaching of common-sense; on the other 
hand, I could not believe in the doctrine of salvation by 


140 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


faith, being, as it is, contradictory to all our ideas of justice, 
and to natural law. I was glad, therefore, to have done 
with Methodism, a form of faith which makes this doctrine 
so prominent in its theology, whether considered in its the- 
oretical or practical sense. 

Again, I could not see any justice in the doctrine of a 
fixed state after death ; but I was conscious that every infer- 
ence we got from our life in this world, went to disprove it. 
There are countless hosts of men who, though they put 
forth strenuous efforts to lift themselves above and out of 
their surroundjngs, yet die in despair, engulfed in the im- 
moral filth in which they were born and raised ; likewise are 
there multitudes who, though they put forth scarcely any 
efforts of their own, yet because of their inherited tenden- 
cies, family relations, early associations and education, live 
fairly good, moral lives, and die what are called good church- 
members. According to the doctrine of a fixed state after 
death, the former are eternally damned, while the latter are 
eternally blest. Now, if any man can see a particle of jus- 
tice in such judgment, he must certainly look through other 
eyes than those of reason. I declare there would be na 
justice in such decrees. If it were possible for the God of 
the universe thus to judge, it is certain that He, being of 
such character, must remain unknown to us. But such 
conclusion, if accepted, would make every priest in the 
world without means of support, and homeless. In the 
nature of the case, therefore, it is one which theologians will 
not be likely to accept. Yet, I am certain they could not 
reasonably do otherwise than accept it, if the dogma -of a 
fixed state after death were true. Because reason assures 
us, that such a doctrine is most unjust ; and, if reason in 
this consideration be self-deceived, then it certainly may be 
in any other consideration, and, therefore, in that of God’s 
will concerning us. 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 141 

I am descended from devotional parents. Being moral 
and law-abiding themselves, they naturally sought to have 
their descendants so. It is certain, therefore, that I inher- 
ited a moral and religious nature, or tendency. I have 
never found it necessary to make any special efforts in order 
to live, what is called, a moral, or even religious life ; rather 
have I found that my hereditary tendencies and early 
teachings and example, have made it hard for me to “ kick 
against the pricks, ” or not to worship the God of my 
fathers. I know others who, descending from notoriously 
immoral progenitors, and brought up in the surroundings of 
their birth, have lived and died, only to repeat the life and 
death of their progenitors. It is true, in many cases, they 
have longed for something better, — better food, better 
clothing, better associations, better thoughts ; but as the 
leopard can not change his spots, so they have failed to bet- 
ter very much their condition, and in their death have 
simply showed how their fore-fathers died. Now, I have no 
doubt whatever that many of those have made more exer- 
tion after a higher life, than some who have shone in church 
and society as suns ; yet, while the latter are eternally 
blessed for their little effort, the former are eternally damned 
for their strenuous but fruitless endeavor after a better life. 
In other wofds, while the one is blessed for doing what he 
never did; the other is damned for not doing what he could 
not possibly do. That the God whom I adore, could so 
judge, I can not, I will not, believe ; for thus believing, I 
should be guilty of blaspheming his most holy name. 

Again, it is certain that while some are born with highly 
developed devotional powers, others are born with scarcely 
any at all. In the former case, the child is almost sure to 
be religious; in the latter case, almost sure not to be so. As 
some are born with good eyes, and become sharp-shooters, 
so some are born with highly developed, spiritual sight, and 


142 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


become leaders in the moral and spiritual world. But is it 
possible that a just God can blame me, because I am not a 
sharp-shooter, when my eyes were such from my birth, as to 
make it impossible for me to see well ? In like manner, is it 
possible that a just God can damn me for not being relig- 
ious, when in my very nature I lack the devotional elements ? 
Let those who will, believe such calumny against the wise 
God and Father of all ; I will not. Here will I stand, God 
helping me : though every created being in the universe be 
guilty of injustice, l will never believe that the Fountain of 
truth and life can be. Therefore I do not believe in the doc- 
trine of a fixed state after death, because of the injustice 
necessarily attending it. Nor could I believe in such doc- 
trine for the following reason : God is necessarily every- 
where present, pervading and upholding all things. He is 
therefore present in this world. But there are no evidences 
of a fixed state in this life ; on the contrary, all is constant 
change. Every sun-rise brings with it new opportunities, 
every sun-set carries with it lost ones. The possibilities of 
improvement remain throughout our life, — hope never dies. 
There being but one God, or one universal Mind ruling and 
pervading all things, it would seem most reasonable to be- 
lieve that as He governs here, so He governs elsewhere ; 
and that, therefore, since during our present life the possi- 
bilities of improvement remain with us, so throughout the 
life which is to come, such possibilities must continue. 

The Judgment-day is not a far off event, but is ever with 
us, and the character of that judgment, is well and certainly 
known. It is far better expressed in the Theosophic doc- 
trine of karma than in so-called Evangelical theology. The 
words of the Vedas are certainly true and just : “ According 
as a man act, and according as he believes, so will he be : 
a man of good acts will become good ; a man of bad acts, 
bad.” Inasmuch as Methodism is most uncompromising in 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


143 


asserting the fixed nature of the future state, I was glad for 
this reason also that I had left its fold. 

Having ceased to act in union with the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, my congregation invited me to preach to them 
independently until I should be called away, or while my 
duties permitted. This I did, at the same time giving 
especial attention to the performance of such duties as might 
hasten my admission, as a minister, into the Protestant 
Episcopal Church. The several kindly written letters, re- 
ceived from the bishop of that church in the state of Jeffer- 
son, on December 31, 1876, and March 22nd and 28th, 1877, 
assured me of a most hearty welcome ; but I should have to 
receive the rites of confirmation, and ordination, before I 
could assume any ministerial work ; for as yet I had never 
been ordained, not even by the Methodists ; and even 
if I had, such ordination is not accepted as valid by Episco- 
palians. It was therefore to such preparation as was required 
for the reception of these rites, that I gave my particular 
attention. It must not be supposed from what I have said, 
that there was any severe labor connected with my entering 
the Protestant Episcopal Church. As far as the rite of con- 
firmation was concerned, there was nothing for me to do but 
merely to receive it; and the same might almost be said with 
regard to my ordination, the learning required for ordination 
to the priesthood being but little in amount, and common in 
quality. Even this little is frequently greatly lessened by 
the bishop who has power by canon to dispense with the 
examinations in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, the only parts of 
the examinations that could be considered at all difficult. 
The examinations in the ancient languages mentioned, even 
when fully borne, may be passed by an applicant who has 
but little more than an elementary knowledge of them. 

I was not a little pained to leave some of the people of 
my charge ; especially may this be said of the people at 


144 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Budds, who had always been most attentive to all my wants, 
and faithful in their attendance on the services. Not one 
unpleasant thing ever occurred to mar our happiness ; but 
their kindness seemed to increase the longer I preached to 
them. It was painful to me to preach my last sermon there, 
which I did on March 18th, 1877. After the service I took 
dinner at Mr. Wahrheit’s. On leaving this good man’s 
house, his kind-hearted wife put into my hands a big bundle, 
saying I was to give it to Mrs. Bray. When Sunshine opened 
the parcel, it was found to contain a plenty of choice cloth- 
ing for the new life whose advent we both looked forward 
to, with great delight. It was a gift very much needed, and 
one that gave great satisfaction to the heart of the expectant 
mother. May God Almighty reward those who thus gave 
peace and quiet to the dear being who was my life, my all, 
though with me now nevermore. To my dying day I shall 
not forget their generous deed. I have not seen them since 
I was the recipient of this kindness, nor is it likely that I 
shall ever again see them on earth ; but I hope and pray to 
meet them in that world where friends shall part no more. 

On discovering the contents of the parcel, Aggie said : 
“ Just think of it, Harry ! This is exactly what I was longing 
for. I could not imagine how to prepare for the event my- 
self, knowing the scarcity of money with us.” 

“ I rejoice with you, my darling Sunshine, that you have 
received so unexpectedly such a full supply of clothing ; 
but I hope in the future to see ourselves able to make such 
provision. Had I known that your poor heart was troubled 
about it, something would have been done long ago.” 

“ I have been not a little worried over the matter, Harry; 
but I didn’t like to speak to you about it, knowing how you 
are troubled already.” 

“ My poor Sunshine ! the world knows thee not, but I 
know thee ; if the people knew thee as thou art, they would 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


145 


supply thee with every needful thing, and crown thee the 
Queen of beauty and truth. My Sunshine ! how can I fail 
to prosper having such a wife ! — 

“ The sun behind the clouds may hide, 

The world the bitter cup present ; 

The sneering look may meet my pride, 

My cherished friends I may lament ; 

Yet, give me but one loving glance. 

That bids me thee embrace ; 

Come weal or woe, I’ll take my lance, 

And conquer through thy grace.” 

“ Harry, do you remember when I first saw these lines 
you have now repeated ? ” 

“ Yes, Aggie. I composed them on the day before 
Valentine’s-day, 1875, an d wrote them on the valentine I 
sent you.” 

“ I shall always keep that valentine, Harry; but I admired 
still more the poem you sent me, and which I received 
shortly after receiving the valentine. Don’t you remember 
it ! It was entitled ‘ Ad Quam Amo,’ and composed March 
nth.” 

“ I can’t recall it now, Sunshine.” 

“ If I get it for you, will you read it ? ” 

“ If it will do you any good, I will.” 

“ Here it is, Harry. You see it’s in good order. What- 
ever Sunshine has received from you, never grows old, or 
decays ; but whenever I look upon it, I feel the same mystic 
spell, and see the same bloom of life. Read it, Harry, 
please.” 

“ My head upon her breast so fair 
And pure as the snow of heaven 
Found perfect ease, as bird in air, 

Or ship on sea, when calmly driven. 


IO 


146 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE 


Her hands, how beautiful to see ! 

I held in mine with tender love ; 

All other things were naught to me. 
Compared with her, my cooing dove. 

We talked in accents poised on love ; 

We left the world, its shame and sin ; 
None heard us, none but those above 
Who hovered ’round on gladsome wing. 

In every movement, every sign, 

In every heart-beat, every breath, 

I saw revealed to me. ‘I’m thine, 

Yes, love, I’m thine in life and death/ 

And who can tell what yet remains 
Beyond the known for those who love? 
May there not be on heaven’s plains 
A place where we can love above ? 

Has God decreed that here we cease, 
That here we drop the precious theme ! 
In leaving sin — O sweet release ! 

May we together not love Him ? 

Sweet-heart, let us believe it so ; 

No more disturb thy maiden breast ; 

For ease is pain, and joy is woe, 

If from thy side I’m offered rest. 

Still closer, closer to my heart, 

My gentle love whom God hath given, 
Thy being rest ne’er more to part ; 

We’re one on earth, we’re one in heaven. 

And what if all the world be black. 

With gaping chasms all around. 

For thee I’ll hurl its blackness back, 

And plant my feet on solid ground. 

Though waves sulphurous o’er me roll, 
And burning lava be my bed, 

Though men and devils tear my soul, 
And earth seem swallowing up her dead ; 


MOVE INTO THE PARSONAGE. 


147 


One look from thee my nerves shall steel, 
That look of love my soul shall fire, 

And though the earth, as drunken, reel. 

I’ll stand unmoved through love’s desire. 

And if for us some shady bowers 
The God above shall order given, 

There — perfect bliss ! we’ll spend our hours. 
And thus continue life in heaven.” 


* 




CHAPTER V. 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

On the evening of Wednesday, May 23rd, 1877, Sunshine 
received warning that she was soon to be a mother. For 
seventeen hours she was in a very critical condition, but 
none was more delighted than she when, at about nine o’clock 
the next morning, she saw her reward in a beautiful child 
who, she said, was to be called Henry Truro. 

We had now been in the Methodist Episcopal parsonage 
about six weeks, since I had severed all connections with 
Methodism; and the Methodists were very angry at our re- 
maining in their house after I had ceased to preach for 
them. This anger they took every possible opportunity of 
manifesting, by sending us frequent and offensive messages. 
There was no vacant house to be had in the village, so we 
resolved to remain where we were, until Aggie should pass 
through her critical period. This resolution, when known 
to the Methodists, served to increase the offence of those 
among them who were our enemies ; and the knowledge of 
their bitter feeling, gave great pains to Aggie ; and she de- 
termined to leave the parsonage at the very earliest moment, 
rather than remain in a shelter so unwillingly allowed. 

Nine days after little Henry Truro was born, the sweet 
voice of the beautiful mother and loving wife, could be 
heard singing the song she had been accustomed to sing in 
our courting days : 

“Far away beyond the shadows, 

Far away beyond the grave, 

Heaven’s light is softly beaming 
Over Jordan’s chilly wave. 

148 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


149 


Then why should I be fearful 
To stem the rolling tide, 

When I hear the angels singing, 

And have Jesus by my side. 

Then I'll welcome joy or sorrow, 

Till the day of death shall come ; 

For I know beyond the shadows, 

Stands my fair celestial home.” 

It was the voice of my beloved that I heard ; and as the 
beautiful words fell from her ruby lips, my very soul was 
thrilled with pleasure at the consciousness of her joy, and 
at the sight of her beauty and loveliness. 

It was on Saturday, I believe, June 2nd, that a terrific 
thunder-storm passed over the village of Mazar, carrying 
away many fragile buildings, and almost swamping the 
whole place in water. The rain came into the little parson- 
age through doors and windows in torrents, so that in spite 
of all my efforts, the flooring was soon covered with water. 
The air of the room became in a moment very damp, and its 
temperature fell perceptibly. The storm continued for 
about an hour, when the horrid blackness passed away, and 
the sky once more became clear. Two days after this, on 
the 4th of June, my darling wife had a chill, and during the 
night her fever was so high that for a short time she became 
delirious. The next morning, Tuesday, her reason fully 
returned, and she appeared much better, — so much so that 
she resolved to accept the invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Love- 
right to come and remain with them, until she should be 
strong enough to accompany me to Montipolis. She would 
not have made this change, nor should I have permitted 
such dangerous move, nor would our friends have advised 
it, had it not been, as I have said, for the pains we felt at 
occupying a house against the will of some of the principal 
members of the Methodist church. Mrs. Loveright was a 


150 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

lady whom Aggie had always very much esteemed, and she 
felt it a special privilege to be thus so kindly invited to 
spend a few days at her house. It was on the afternoon of 
Tuesday, June 5th, on the twelfth day after she became a 
mother, that carefully wrapping her in blankets, and seating 
her in an easy-chair, we took Sunshine in a carriage to the 
residence of Mr. Loveright, about a quarter of a mile dis- 
tant, to await the return of her strength. At the same time 
a physician was sent for, who on his arrival, said : “ She is 

very weak, and will be for some time ; but you have no need 
to have any fears about her recovery. It is only a question 
of a few days’ rest and good nursing.” And so I thought 
and prayed, but events proved otherwise. 

About this time Sunshine was greatly troubled over what 
she thought a bad omen : 

“ Harry,” she said, “ what do you suppose happened to- 
day ? I have been worried ever since.” 

“ I can’t say, Sunshine,” I replied. “ What was it ? ” 

“ My wedding ring came off ; and I’ve always heard it is 
a very bad sign.” 

“ I think it is a sign,” I answered, “ that it should be 
more firmly put on.” 

“ I have put it on,” she said; “but it does not feel as it 
did. Won’t you please take it off again, and put it on your- 
self, Harry ? I think it will feel all right, when you put it 
on ; but now ’ tisn’t like the same thing.” 

I did as she requested, and she said : “ There ! now it 

will be all right again; but unless you had put it on, it would 
never seem like my wedding ring.” 

By Sunday, June 10th, Sunshine had sufficiently recovered 
to sit up a little while, which she earnestly asked permission 
to do. Many friends came to see her, and all were greatly 
rejoiced to see so many signs of improvement. Sad to say I 
late in the afternoon of that day, she was taken with violent 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


I5i 

pains in the right side, which the physician said was pleurisy. 
It pains me now to think of the anguish she endured, from 
that time till the following Wednesday; when, the pain hav- 
ing subsided, she began to recover, and the star of my hope 
seemingly to ascend. But, woe to me ! on Friday morning, 
she was attacked by the disease in the left side. This attack 
was not so violent as that in the right side ; but it continued 
till Sunday morning, and made fearful inroads upon the 
little strength she had remaining her. Yet no one thought 
of death. I was full of hope that brighter days were com- 
ing. In my fancy I could hear her singing once more, as 
of old : 

“ I shall catch the gleam of its jasper wall, 

When I come to the gloom of the evening fall ; 

For I know that the shadows dreary and dim 
Have a path of light that will lead to him.” 

On approaching her bed-side, I saw a tear in her beauti- 
ful blue eye. Oh, how gently I wiped it away ! What caused 
the tear ? Did thoughts of her family far, far away ? Did 
she then fear she would see her loved ones no more ? 
God knows ; I never knew. I know that a tear from her 
eye, was as a sword-thrust in my heart. No word of discon- 
tentment ever fell from her lips ; no sigh for the dear ones 
she had left so far behind. Meekly she bore her sufferings, 
trusting in him to whom she was all the world, and who was 
all the world to her. Having wiped away the tear, I said : 

“ You’ll soon be better, won’t you darling ? ” 

“ Perhaps ; guess so, ” she answered between her breaths. 

“Do you feel pain anywhere, Sunshine?” I asked. 

“ No ; no pain. Let me sleep Harry, please ; won’t you ? ” 

About noon I went to the well for a glass of water for 
her. As I went to her bed-side with it, she said : 

“ Harry, do you know who has been here, since you went 
out ? ” 


J 5 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ I don’t know, Sunshine, ” I replied ; “ I think no one. ” 

“ Grandfather has been here, since you went out. ” 

I replied : “You’ve been dreaming, Sunshine. ” 

“ I thought I was wide awake,” she said. “ He seemed 
to come in, and sit there in the window. His white locks 
hung down over his shoulders, as in days of old ; and he 
said : ‘ Aggie lassie, I’m come for you, and I’m going to 
take care of the wee little one ; you’re too sick to mind 
him now. ’ ” 

I tried to laugh her out of this ; but 1 believe she thought 
she had received a warning of her approaching death ; for 
after this she appeared less hopeful, less buoyant than be- 
fore. The dear girl ! I can see her pale face now, as it 
lay buried in the pillow, resting upon her hand. She was a 
precious jewel. Sad it is that its lustre should so soon have 
faded. 

Sunday evening Sunshine was pillowed up in her chair, 
in accordance with her own request. She had never lost 
her reason a moment, except at the time mentioned above, 
during the night of the fourth of June ; but she was very 
weak. Her weakness was accounted for, not by her having 
a very dangerous illness, but because of her natural weak- 
ness, and the pains through which she had lately passed. 

Monday morning she appeared greatly weakened, and we 
sent for another physician. On learning that we had sent 
for another physician, Aggie said : 

“ Don’t send for another doctor ; they have already made 
a drug-store of my stomach. I would much rather be re- 
moved to Montipolis. ” 

“My darling, ” I said, “ we can see what the doctor says. 
If he thinks you can be removed with safety to Montipolis, 
we will take you there immediately ; but if he says it would 
be dangerous to remove you, I am sure you will not wish to 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


r 53 


go there. For Harry’s sake, Sunshine, you must not run 
any risks. ” 

It was on the noon of Monday when, weary with excite- 
ment and anxiety, and broken down for want of rest, I lay 
upon the lounge, at the foot of Suushine’s bed, thinking of 
the time, near at hand as I thought, when she would be well 
again, and go forth hand in hand with me to fight the bat- 
tles of life. While thus thinking, I heard a sound as if 
of some one trying to speak. I sprang from the lounge to 
the side of the bed, and Aggie said : 

“Didn’t you hear your Sunshine calling for water?” 

“ No, my darling, ” I replied ; “ but I hear you now. ” 

“ Raise me up, Harry, please ; I want to sit up. ” 

While she was speaking, and before I had time to coun- 
sel her not to do so, she exerted herself to rise in the bed ; 
and to this exertion I attribute the fatal consequences which 
resulted. As soon as possible I raised her to a sitting 
posture, when she let her legs hang down at the bed-side. 
I sat down at her right side, and endeavored to brace her 
up, by putting one arm behind her and the other in front. 
I noticed that she was paler even than usual, and said : 

“ Will you lie down again, Sunshine ? ” 

“ Can’t I rest my head on your breast ?” she said. 

“My darling Sunshine,” I said, “you can do whatever 
you wish ; but let me beg of you not to give up the fight. 
Be brave, my darling ; and God will give you your strength 
again. ” Oh, how mournful her voice ! how pleading her 
looks ! Her head fell on my breast. It was once more in 
its accustomed place. How dear it felt to me ! It was but 
a minute there, when she cried out, “ More air ! more air ! ” 
We dashed a little water on her face, fanned her, and poured 
about a half of a teaspoonful of brandy into her mouth ; 
but all was over. Laying my precious burden down, I fell 


J 54 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


on my knees, and cried unto God to receive her weary 
spirit unto Himself, and give it rest. 

What a change had come over Aggie ! Her sun had gone 
out. Her eyes, large as ever, were now veiled : they had 
ceased their silent language, no longer looking love, or bid- 
ding me hope. What a change had come over me ! My sun 
had gone down, and a horrible darkness had come over me. 
Had God forgotten to be gracious ! Could He delight in 
blasting the flower whose fragrance was so delightful to me! 
Was his hand so shortened that He could not save my darling 
from falling into the gulf of death, in answer to the earnest 
prayers that went up to Him to spare her life ! These and a 
thousand other similar questions rushed through my soul, as 
I thought of my utterly wretched condition. 

Carefully I laid back upon the pillow the lovely head that 
was never again to feel for a resting-place. Passionately, 
frantically I kissed the yet warm lips that never again would 
vibrate, as they thrilled my being with their touch. Oh, the 
torture of separation forever ! Oh, the agony at the thought 
that the silvery tones of the voice of her I* so much loved, 
were hushed forever in the awful stillness of death ! In my 
despair I cried from the depths of a broken heart : “ The 

Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the 
name of the Lord.” She died fifteen minutes past noon of 
Monday, June 18th, 1877, two years and twenty-three days 
from the time of our union in marriage. 

Oh Aggie ! no more shalt thou tremble in the presence of 
death, or at wading the dismal flood. No more shall earth’s 
troubles disturb thee, nor the words of unkind ones tear thy 
tender breast. Henceforth thou shalt live a higher life ; and 
dressed in garments whiter than snow, join in songs of praise 
to Him, the only God and Father of all. The courts of the 
temple of the higher Jerusalem are now open to thee. Enter 
thou into the holy of holies. Fields of brighter glory now 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


*55 


open to thy view. Rejoice and be exceeding glad ; death 
hath no sting for thee, nor the grave dominion: through death 
hast thou entered into life. 

It was my desire to bury the remains of my Sunshine in 
the burial-place of her fathers. I knew she would have re- 
quested this, had she known she was to die. The expense of 
such a funeral would be very heavy, far more than my weak 
purse could then bear ; but my friends decided to loan me a 
hundred dollars. 

Once more did I kiss the lips that I so often had kissed 
before ; but now there was no reciprocal thrill : as clammy 
clay, they were sealed with the seal of death. The hands 
clasped did not move to receive me, nor did the eye emit a 
single ray of love. She was truly beautiful in death ; but it 
was no less a lump of clay that I had kissed. 

Tenderly we laid her to rest in a temporary coffin. She 
was dressed in her wedding dress, and her wedding ring was 
on her finger to come off no more. The prayer-book of her 
childhood was in her hand ; a beautiful bouquet was on her 
bosom ; and as she lay in her coffin, she would have looked 
asleep, did not her once ruby lips reveal those livid marks 
she had received from the arrows of all-conquering death. 

Tuesday evening I left Mazar for Farmerville, accom- 
panied by Mrs. Loveright. There I stayed at the residence 
of Mrs. Pudority, until the arrival of the Wednesday-morn- 
ing train for Fairtown, when I went on board with the little 
baby. Mr. Workandpray and others had taken the body of 
my loved one to Feldville, where it was taken from the 
temporary coffin, and placed in a beautiful casket, which 
had been ordered from a distant city. They met me at Fair- 
town, and kindly helped in seeing everything properly done 
for my journey to Aristopolis, Canada. Thanking them for 
all they had done, and for all they had been to me and my 
loved one, I bade them farewell, and went on board with my 


156 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

baby in my arms, the remains of my loving Aggie being on 
the same train. 

It was a lonely and inexpressibly mournful journey ; and 
its remembrance will go with me down to the silent grave, 
where it will be remembered no more forever. A little be- 
fore I came to Aristopolis, I was talking to some ladies 
about the baby and its mother. Being requested, I gave the 
maiden name of my departed Sunshine ; and as I mentioned 
her name, I saw a young and beautiful-looking girl near me 
turn deathly pale. I looked at the face of the lady, and 
instantly recognized it as that of one of Aggie’s old com- 
panions, whose photograph she had placed in our album, 
where I had often seen it. The death of Aggie was such a 
shock to her, that she fainted in her seat on hearing of it. 

I was met at the depot by the sorrowing family and 
many friends, and taken to the house in which I had mar- 
ried Aggie. We felt very sorry when we found that the 
casket containing Aggie’s remains, could not be taken 
into the house ; for notwithstanding all the care which had 
been taken, the odor emitted from the casket was such that 
it was thought best to let it remain, during the night, outside 
on the balcony. Thus the form of the lovely being that 
stood by my side, in the home of her parents, when we were 
made one, never again entered it, after leaving her native 
country. 

For a moment some of us looked at the face, having taken 
off the lid. Oh, how discolored ! “ Cover it up ! ” I cried. 
“ It is not the face of Aggie. Do not look on the corpse ; 
remember Aggie as she went away from you, and from the 
home of her childhood and not as her precious body was 
brought back to it. Cover it up ; cover it up.” 

Friday morning at eleven o’clock, June 22nd, 1877, we 
laid the body of Sunshine to rest at Aristopolis, Canada, in 
the cemetery of the Church of England, the Bible Christian 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


157 


minister performing the burial services. She sleeps by the 
side of her grandfather whom she had loved so tenderly in 
life, and mourned so bitterly in death. 

Covering her grave with flowers, we left her alone in the 
keeping of that God by whose power we hope all the dear 
ones, riven asunder by the relentless hands of death, shall 
be re-united in a brighter and deathless land. 

She sleeps, she sleeps, the beautiful sleeps, 

’Neath the clods of the valley she lies ; 

Her body the tomb in its cold embrace keeps, 

But her spirit is at home in the skies. 

In the morn of thy youth, thou didst shrink from thy part 
Which first with true pride filled thy breast ; 

Thy fingers were busy, and blissful thy heart, 

At the thought of a fond mother’s rest. 

Oh, the torturous pain ! oh, the blight of thy race ! 

Oh, that I had died for thee ! 

Thy delicate form, thy womanly grace, 

I had never seen martyred for me. 

E’en longer the earth, in her silvery path, 

Is bathed in the light of the moon, 

Than thy babe the protection of a fond mother hath, 

Though it clung to thy bosom so soon. 

Then sleep, Aggie, sleep ; thy dear, tender heart 
Shall be torn with life’s anguish no more ; 

Nor unkindness nor slight may give thee a smart. 

In thy home in the evergreen shore. 

Thy great truthful eyes ! what faith they express ! 

What purity, virtue and love ! 

Not a shadow of doubt did they ever confess, 

They beamed with a light from above. 

The stars in the heavens remind me of thee 
The flowerets they pine for thy hand ; 

The robins and snowbirds come mourning to me, 

And weep at this cold, famished land. 


158 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Through the glass as I darkly perceive thy crown won, 

And the laurels that deck thy fair brow, 

I behold thy pure spirit outshining the sun, 

And by faith I alone am sad now. 

The pleasures thou drinkest, the food thou dost eat, 

Were they known to my languishing breast, 

Would tear me from hence my lost darling to meet, 

To be cleansed in that Ocean of Rest. 

O Aggie ! dear love ! if at home in the sky, 

Thou canst see the wild throbbings of love, 

May I ask thee to look and assist from on high 
My efforts to meet thee above ? 

Then sing, Sunshine, sing, on the bright, golden strand. 

Till for me death the canvas shall spread, 

Then I’ll board the grim boat for fair Canaan’s land, 

For a light on death’s river thou’lt shed. 

In mercy, my Father, look down from on high, 

As a poor, wounded bird am I ready to die 
For my love but as yesterday given ; 

The beautiful hands on her marble breast lie, 

My darling is passive, and empty the eye 
That hitherto sparkled with heaven. 

Her lips they are sealed, their beauty effaced. 

O Christ ! with her love no more to be graced, 

Alone must I tread the rough way ! 

God, help me to see in the darkness of night ; 

God, help me to live in the strength of thy might, 

And trust for the coming of day. 

After staying some days with the grief-stricken family, I 
left for Eudoxia, Michigan, to remain for a short time with 
mother and Joe. Little Henry Truro, my sweet little baby, 
I left in the care of its grandmother. “ None can care for 
the child, as I can,” said Mrs. Lewarne. “Is it not the flesh 
and blood of my lost Aggie ? Leave it with me, Mr. Bray. 
You can not do less. I shall not feel the loss of my child so 
much, if I have the baby with me. Besides, you know as 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


159 


well as I do that Aggie would be pleased for the baby to re- 
main with me.” I thought the reasoning just. I had taken 
from her my lovely bride, the joy of the mother, the delight 
of the home, thus multiplying the grey hairs of the parents, 
and hastening their march to the grave. Yes, I would 
leave my baby in its grandmother’s care, knowing that she 
would care for it as for her own. 

About the middle of July, I set out from Eudoxia for 
Montipolis, in the state of Jefferson, by request of the bishop 
of that state, to stand the examinations for admission to 
priest’s orders. I was very weak from continued grief ; but 
I experienced no difficulty whatever in preparing myself. 
The examinations were conducted by two presbyters, July 
27th and August 4th, at the bishop’s residence, in the city 
of Montipolis. A question was given me in dogpatic 
theology, which I did not answer to the satisfaction of the 
examiner ; but I insisted that I was correct. The examiner 
quoted Pearson on the Creed ; but I refused to adopt Pear- 
son’s view of the matter. He then declared my views were 
heretical. I replied if my views were heretical, so much 
the worse for the church ; that if they ordained me, they 
would be obliged to ordain a heretic, as I would not change 
my view of the matter for Pearson, or any number of Pear- 
sons, unless they could prove to my satisfaction that I was 
in error. This naturally enough gave but poor satisfaction 
to the examiner. I then said : “ Allow me to call the bishop, 
and address the same question to him, that we may have his 
opinion on the matter in dispute.” 

The bishop being asked the question, answered it as I 
had. 

“But, bishop,” said the examiner, “you are certainly 
wrong, for Pearson holds that such opinion is heretical.” 

“ What does Pearson say ? ” asked the bishop. 

The examiner having stated Pearson’s view, the bishop 


160 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

replied : “ All right. I stand corrected. I presume neither 
Mr. Bray nor myself wishes to be at war with Pearson.” 

“ Well, bishop,” I replied, “ I do not know whether I am 
glad or sorry ; but I do know that any man should think 
too much of his own opinion to change it simply because 
Pearson, who was but a man like other men, teaches to the 
contrary. He gives me no sufficient reason, in what he says, 
for abjuring my view and adopting his. If I am heretical, 
it is better that it should be known now, that I may stop be* 
fore it is too late. I can not change my view of the matter, 
ordained or not ordained.” 

“ That is nothing,” said the bishop. “ I presume such 
differences do no harm in the end. They only serve to stir 
us up a little. Let the matter drop.” 

August 5th, 1877, I was confirmed in the bishop’s church, 
in the city of Montipolis, the priest of the parish presenting 
me. The following day I left for Eudoxia to seek rest with 
my mother and brother. The day before leaving, I received 
a letter from Mrs. Lewarne, certifying me of the illness of 
my child. I prayed earnestly that its life might be spared, 
thinking that in it I should have the image of my lost Sun- 
shine. “But, O my Father,” I said, “ if it be better for the 
child that it should rest with its mother, then O my God ! 
thy will be done. If it be possible, let this bitterness pass 
from me ; but if it may not, give me strength, O Lord, to 
drink it.” 

Friday, August 17th, 1877, little Henry Truro died at his 
grandmother’s residence, of a second attack of cholera in- 
fantum. This with me was grief upon grief, and helped 
greatly to increase my weakness. I could not attend 
the funeral of the child. I could do nothing but weep 
and pray. I felt the smoking flax had been set fire to, 
and the bruised reed broken. Sometimes, however, I felt a 
kind of comfort at the death of little Henry Truro. I fre- 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


1 6 r 


quently thought of Aggie as being so lonely in the grave, 
and as longing for some of us to be with her. So I thought 
in the death of the child, my grief would be her rejoicing. I 
could in fancy see her, as it were, clasping the infant again 
to her breast as if to nurse it. This thought helped me bear 
my grief ; for “ now,” I said, “ Aggie will not feel so deeply 
the loneliness of the grave.” The child had been baptized 
June 24th, at three o’clock in the afternoon, in the English 
Church at Aristopolis, being presented and received by its 
grandmother who, many years before, had brought its de- 
parted mother, then an infant, to the same font for a similar 
purpose. 

My mother and brother were very attentive to me. They 
knew what I had suffered, and how deeply I was grieving 
for the dead, and they sought in every possible manner to 
alleviate my suffering. Still the thought of Aggie was ever 
with me : indeed, my brain was so disturbed that it was 
nothing strange for me to see her in the same room where I 
sat. Little by little the intensity of my grief subsided ; but 
it settled into a sadness solemn and deep. 

I had been brought up to believe that everything which 
happened to us, occurred by God’s appointment ; and I 
knew well that this belief was supposed to be held by Chris- 
tians in general. At the same time I knew what I had lost, 
and what I was suffering as the result of that loss. I also 
knew that one might say, as some one frequently did, that 
such suffering or chastisement was good for me ; but I 
could not be satisfied with such an explanation. What had 
I done to be thus afflicted ? All around me I saw multi- 
tudes of men whose lives were a shame to themselves and 
their friends ; yet they lived, and prospered, and enjoyed the 
good things of this world, their dear ones being with them. 
Riches, honor and love seemed abundantly possessed by 
them who lived without a thought of God, or a care for their 


n 


162 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


future state. They lived in fine houses, and possessed very 
many sheep ; but I, though having but one little lamb, was 
in my wretchedness deprived even of that, and allowed to 
live in my penury. I who was but a bruised reed, was now 
broken, but permitted to live with my head in the dust ; I 
who was but smoking flax, was made more ready for the 
flame by the friction of pain and grief. The knowledge of 
these things made it hard for me to recognize what is called 
the providence of God. I knew I had prayed and, so far as I 
could see, prayed in vain : I knew I had knocked and, so 
far as I could see, knocked in vain ; I knew I had asked 
and, so far as I could see, asked in vain. Yet would I often 
endeavor to answer myself by saying : “ God’s ways are not 

my ways. He knowing all things, wisely arrangeth them 
with a view to my eternal welfare.” But if this be true, at 
what a cost was I redeemed ! Without Aggie my life 
seemed a vacancy, with her a fulness ; without Aggie my 
life seemed a chaos, with her order and beauty ; without 
Aggie I seemed weak and destitute, with her I seemed 
strong and completely furnished. With Aggie I had much 
to be thankful for : her companionship sanctified my life, and 
made it rich and full, indeed, a foretaste of heaven ; without 
Aggie the reason for thankfulness seemed taken away, for 
her absence robbed me of the beauty of life, and made it 
beggarly and empty, indeed, a foretaste of hell. At what a 
cost, then, was I redeemed ! At what a cost obtained I my 
salvation, were it true that what happened to me, occurred 
by God’s appointment for the working out of my eternal 
good ! I could not but think that an almighty Being, full 
of love and wisdom, might have found some method for the 
accomplishment of this, which would have been less painful 
to mb. 

I have no doubt that the suffering I endured in those 
days, instead of adding to the faith of my childhood, greatly 


THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 


163 


detracted from it, by lessening my faith in what is termed 
the providence of God, and in supernatural interferences. I 
never could believe that the death of Sunshine was by the 
will of God ; I always did belive it was the result of unwise 
treatment, improper management, and insufficient care. So 
with my little Henry Truro : I believed that his death was 
not a result in accordance with the will of God, but of in- 
judicious treatment or nursing. 

By their death I was made more practical, more realis- 
tic, more skeptical; less visionary, less superstitious, less 
■credulous. I had loved my Sunshine with all the love 
of a warm, devoted, passionate heart ; and I shall never 
cease to love her until the well-springs of my life shall for- 
ever cease to flow. But I daily learned to bear my loss, 
knowing well that we can not recall the past, nor undo what 
is done ; and also that however much our wisdom, we still 
are liable to error in judging what is good and best. 

LINES ON LITTLE HENRY. 

A ray of light coming out of the gloom, 

A bud of life springing out of the tomb, 

We saw thee, though but for a day ; 

A spark of fire falling down from above, 

A burst of joy from the Ocean of Love, 

Appearing, it passes away. 

A garden of flowers which bloom all the year, 

And trees of sweet fragrance which give the soul cheer. 

We loved thee, and found in thee rest; 

A wandering star sent forth by His might, 

A world all arranged out of chaos and night. 

Shone brightly, then died in the west. 

The darkness of death which has fallen on thee, 

Shall hide thee from perils most painful to me, — 

The heart finds peace in the tomb ; 

Where the body of Sunshine, thy mother, finds rest, 

There, deep in the darkness, thou’rt near to the breast 
Whose spirit shall lighten the gloom. 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


A gift from heaven, and my heart’s first delight* 
An image of God, though effaced in a night, 

My child, thou shalt never grow old; 

The eye of the Father shall show thee the way, 
The love of Jehovah may bring thee some day. 
To meet me, a lamb of the fold. 


CHAPTER VI. 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE— FIRST EPISCOPALIAN 
WORK. 

Little by little my strength increased until I felt able, on 
the 20th day of October, 1877, to leave Eudoxia for Montipo- 
lis, with a view to ordination. I was ordained to the diaconate 
in the cathedral of Montipolis, on the 25th Sunday after 
Trinity, November 18th, 1877, by the Right Rev., the Bishop 
of the state of Jefferson, the Canon of the church presenting 
me, and preaching the ordination sermon. 

About a week after my ordination, that is on the 24th of 
the month, I left Montipolis for Katapolis, in the same state, 
for the purpose, should I like it, of taking charge of the 
Episcopal church in that city; but after a trial of three 
weeks, I left Katapolis, convinced of the inability of that 
place to properly support me. 

As Christmas was fast approaching, I determined to 
spend it, at the urgent and oft-repeated request of my old 
friends, in Mazar, the place where Sunshine had died. 

As the cars carried me over the ground which, fifteen 
months before, I had passed over in company with Aggie, I 
felt an indescribable loneliness; and it was a great relief to 
me when, on arriving at Farmerville, I found Mr. Truth- 
seeker in the town. In a short time I was on board his car- 
riage, bound for Mazar. In the course of a day or two I 
had the most satisfactory proof that my visit was very agree- 
able to the people of the village, and country round about; 
for invitations were sent me from all directions to visit my 
friends, and receive the hospitality of their homes. While 

165 


1 66 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


in the village I was the guest of a great many, and was- 
delightfully entertained by all. 

As I had opportunity, I lectured and preached ; and the 
people came in such numbers and contributed so liberally 
from their purses, that a dear friend said, on my returning^ 
from a lecture: “ The only one who will have any money 
around here very soon, will be Mr. Bray. Before he leaves, 
the folks will empty their purses into his pocket-book.” 
Such was my reception that my visit was greatly prolonged; 
and at one time, at the earnest request of many friends, I 
seriously contemplated the establishment of an independent 
church for the people of the village and country. I finally 
abandoned the idea, fearing that as the newness of the enter- 
prise should pass away, their attachment for it might lessen, 
and thus the disgrace of failure be fastened on me. But as 
I look back on it to-day, I doubt not that I might have 
established a church among them, and had a happy and con- 
tented people. As it was they succeeded in keeping me- 
with them until the nth day of February, 1878, when, 
I bade them adieu, taking the cars for Montipolis, where I 
arrived the next day, and remained until the 21st. While, 
there I had the kind attention of the bishop, was invited to 
his table, and received from him the promise that he would 
do everything he possibly could to start me in the work. At 
that time, he said, there was no parish vacant which might 
offer me a desirable field of labor ; but he would take care 
to recommend me to the first vacancy. 

I had a sister in the state of Adams, and it was ten years, 
since I had seen her. Having no special duties to perform, 
I determined to set out for that state. On the 25th of the 
month, having been four days on my journey, I arrived at 
the residence of my sister Kate, where I received a royal 
welcome from herself and husband. While visiting my sis- 
ter I baptized very many children and adults, my sister 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 


167 


Kate and her children being among the number. I also 
preached for the Methodist Episcopal minister, and de- 
livered a lecture in his church, on the 6th day of March, 
for which I received the sum of twenty-two dollars and 
fifty cents. During my stay with my sister, I visited 
the silver mines near the village. It was a wonderful sight 
to see the veins of ore, and no less to see the mechanical 
skill used in bringing the ore from the mines down to 
the stock-piles. The large buckets moved along over head, 
laden with their precious burdens, as if living things. 

Since I had seen my dear sister, she had greatly 
changed. When I last had seen Kate, she was not a mother; 
now she was the mother of four children, and in most pros- 
perous circumstances. This sister had always been very 
dear to me ; and I was rejoiced at her prosperity. 

March 14th, I left my sister’s house for the purpose of visit- 
ing the Right Rev., the Bishop of the state of Adams. He re- 
ceived me very kindly, offered me a parish in the city, en- 
tertained me at his residence for several days, invited me to 
preach, and urged me to remain with him. “ I believe,” said 
he, “ that you are the very man I have been looking for. It 
seems to. me that God hath sent you to me. Stay with me, 
Mr. Bray, and I will make everything for you as pleasant as 
I possibly can. I treat my clergy well. I try to act to them 
as a father, and wish them to treat me as such. Their 
happiness is mine, and I make it a rule never to betray their 
confidence. If you stay with me, I think you will not re- 
gret it. We have a flourishing state, and the church-work 
of the diocese is in a flourishing condition. Men and money 
are all that’s wanted. Help me to build up this great work.” 

For many reasons I did not think it best to accept the 
bishop’s offers, although I liked the man. Finally, having 
received an invitation to become the rector of the church in 
Winterton, in the state of Calhoun, I accepted the call, and 


i68 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


left Churchton immediately for my new field of labor, where 
I arrived on the following Sunday, March 24th. Tired as I 
was on my arrival, on that day I held two services and 
Sunday-school. 

There were but few male communicants among the mem- 
bers of the church in Winterton, a large percentage of the 
communicants being widows whose husbands had been slain 
during the war of the Rebellion. The people composing 
the congregation of this church, were of the intelligent class; 
and I found them at all times courteous, generous, and 
honorable : they are among the most pleasing remembrances 
of my life. Yet it was not a parish in all things desirable. 
It was a pleasant little garden where stood many a “ tree of 
life,” concerning which the command had gone forth, though 
then but indistinctly heard : “ In the day thou eatest thereof 
thou shalt surely die.” Nor was there any serpent needed 
to tempt a person to eat, the fruit itself being a sufficient 
temptation. It was about three months after accepting the 
rectorship of this church, that I was engaged, in the vestry, 
in the preparation of a sermon for the following Sunday. It 
was then that the following incident occurred, which I give 
to my readers as a sample of the forbidden fruit I was in- 
vited to eat. Hearing a knock at the door, I arose, and ad- 
mitted a lady-member of my congregation. She was a 
blooming widow, a little over thirty years of age, and having 
a good income. For a minute or two after she had entered, 
she appeared much embarrassed, as one having a favor to 
ask, and feeling ashamed to ask it. After about ten minutes 
of general conversation, she cast off this reserve, and spoke 
freely the thoughts of her heart : 

“ The people are all delighted with your sermons, Mr. 
Bray. We’ve never had any one in this parish so well liked 
as you. You are so earnest in manner, and thrilling in 
oratory that you appear to magnetize the whole congrega- 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 169 

tion. You seem to hold the congregation spell-bound. I 
am sure I don’t know how it is, but the very first time I set 
my eyes on you in the chancel, you had this power over me. 
I can’t bear to miss one of your sermons, and I long for the 
hour of service to come. I never knew but one man who 
had anything like this power over me, and even he hadn’t it 
to the extent that you have. Of course, you know whom I 
mean : I refer to my departed husband. He was one of the 
best that ever lived, and in his loss my very life’s sun went 
down, as I thought, to rise no more forever. I buried my 
heart at his funeral so deep, that I never thought there was 
any power in the whole world strong enough to resurrect it. 
But, I suppose you’ll think me a foolish woman, when I first 
saw you, the old sensations revived ; and before I knew 
where I was, my heart had been taken out of its grave, and 
laid down at your feet. I tremble at my own actions, Mr. 
Bray. I know I am doing what I ought not to do, that I 
am saying what I ought not to say ; but you stand so high, 
you are so pure, so noble, in my estimation that I feel I can 
do, in your case, what I would do for no other man I ever 
knew. If you could feel as I do, if you thought of me the 
tenth part I think of you, I fancy how happy I should be ! 
I have a good income, as you know ; I have a nice house to 
live in ; lam well provided for. If you could return my 
affection, yes, affection, for I love you with my whole soul, 
how happy and independent you might be ! You would no 
longer be dependent on the good will of your people, or the 
good-will of our bishop ; you would have sufficient to live 
on, without any of their help ; and I know I could make life 
pleasant for you. I thought day after day, for a long time, 
that I would come to you, and tell you my heart ; but I 
could not get courage enough to do it. Now it is done. 
Do not be angry with me ; do not judge me harshly, nor as 
acting immodestly ; for, believe me, I have been driven to 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


170 

do what I’ve done, because I have lost all command of my- 
self, and loved you wildly.” 

“ My dear Mrs. Y,” I said, “ I am surprised at your ac- 
tions, — not that you have acted immodestly, but that there 
should be any such power in me, as you have spoken of, which 
might prompt you to do as you have done. You are a lady 
I have always thought highly of. You are well bred, well 
educated, and affluent ; and I have never thought for a mo- 
ment that you would like to link your life with mine. I feel 
greatly honored in what you have said this evening. Who 
would not be ? What man is there living who should not 
feel honored at being the object of such confidence and af- 
fection, as you have shown toward me, since you came into 
this vestry ? I know such disclosures are not common ; but 
I presume it is not because they are not desirable, or that 
the parties having such secrets in their breasts, would not 
like to disclose them. I think the reason that such disclos- 
ures are not made oftener, is the fact that the persons hav- 
ing such secret affection, fear to reveal it to the objects of 
their love, lest they be betrayed. You have made.no mis- 
take in me : while the sun endures, no living being shall 
ever know the name of the lady that has thus honored me. 
Still I am very sorry this has happened : it pains me. What 
have I done, what have I said, that should cause you to think 
of me as you have thought ? Have I in any way given you 
to understand that I love you ? ” 

“ Mr. Bray, what I’ve done, I’ve done of my own accord : 
unasked and unsought I gave you my heart.” 

“Your heart, Mrs. Y, is a noble one, worthy of the love 
of any man. Were I a thousand-times better and nobler 
than I am. I still should not be too worthy of you ; but I 
dare not say any more on this subject till some future time. 
I have not thought of it; it is wholly unexpected. I would 
not marry you, unless I could love you; and I could not 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. I7r 

give you, or myself, any satisfactory answer to this question, 
just now. Let me ask you to go home ; and may the God 
of peace be with you.” 

The lady who had just left the vestry, was in many ways 
attractive, and had it not been that at that time I was cor- 
responding with Miss Mabel Summy of the state of Jeffer- 
son, with a view to marriage, it is more than likely that I 
should have early learned to return the affection of Mrs. Y; 
but, as it was, I felt it impossible to do so, and the longer I 
waited, the greater became the impossibility. Yet, this lady 
gave me no rest ; for though there were many trees in that 
garden, all bearing forbidden fruit, none was brought so fre- 
quently and temptingly before my view, as was this tree. 
The serpent said, “ It is a pleasant tree, and fair to look 
upon, bearing fruit of the most delicious taste ; and in the 
day thou eatest thereof, thine eyes shall be opened.” But 
the voice of God, silent yet distinct, said, “ Thou shalt not 
eat.” With the voice of such a charmer, how could mortal 
man expect to be saved ! The serpent appearing as my friend 
and well-wisher, I was somewhat beguiled, and yielded, to 
some extent, to his powerful charms. But frequently as I 
sat under the cool shade of this tree’s many-leafed branches, 
and frequently as I gathered some of its delicious-looking 
fruit ; yet, eat it I never would, however often it was set be- 
fore me. After that, I often heard the voice of God “walk- 
ing in the garden, in the cool of the day”; and when He 
called, “ Adam, where art thou ? ” I was neither ashamed 
nor naked, but answered gladly, “Here, Lord, am I.” 

I always thought that it is the glory of a true man, and 
should be his pride, to protect a woman when exposed, and 
give her strength where she may be weak ; and I do not 
think that the noble man will ever consent to do an act which 
may bring injury upon the woman who confides in him. 

About the 25th of July I began to be quite unwell, and 


172 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


by the first of August, I was so yellow that it was com- 
mon for those I visited to say, “ Why, Mr. Bray ! you look 
for all the world like a yellow-fever patient. I am sure as I 
am of anything, that if you were in Magnoliaville, they would 
say you had the yellow-fever/' Sick as I was, however, I 
would not desist from my work. On Sunday, August nth, 
I preached, when I was scarcely able to stand with dizziness 
and pains in the back, head and limbs. During the week 
preceding, I had been confined to the bed for several days. 
Knowing my general debility, my people insisted on my tak- 
ing a vacation ; and in accordance with their wishes, on 
Monday morning, August 12th, I left for a seven-weeks 
visit in the state of Greeley. But notwithstanding my weak- 
ness, and the fact that I was unacclimated, yet I would not 
have taken this vacation, however much my people desired 
it, were it not that I intended on my return to bring a wife 
with me, to help and cheer me in my work. The young lady 
whom I was to marry, had been a member of my choir in 
Mazar, in the state of Jefferson, and had been greatly ad- 
mired by Sunshine, who said of her : “ I think I have 
never known a young girl having such a sweet disposition 
as Miss Mabel Summy ; and she is just as beautiful as 
sweet.” 

On my visit to Mazar, after Aggie’s death, I was the 
guest for some time at the residence of Mr. and Mrs. 
Summy; and it was while I was thus receiving the hospitality 
of their home, that I was attracted by the grace, sweetness 
and loveliness of their daughter Mabel. I was struck with the 
implicit obedience she yielded her parents, and the great 
respect shown her by her brothers and sisters. Her soft 
voice, and graceful, flowing movement could not but attract 
the notice, and win the admiration, of any worshipper of 
the beautiful in woman. Mabel was a brunette, while Aggie 
was a blonde; but they were equally beautiful. Mabel was 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 173 

of a more retiring disposition and pensive mood than Aggie 
who, on the contrary, was frolicsome, and as quick as thought 
at repartee. Mabel was as tender as the magnolia, her 
spirit in an instant revealing the bruise received from unkind 
hands; but she would suffer in silence, her heart weeping, as 
it were, instead of her eyes. With my own hands I baptized 
her, at her parents’ residence, Friday, August 16th, 1878;. 
and on the next day, took her to be my wife, the wedding cere- 
mony being performed at the principal hotel in Feldville, by 
the Rev. Mr. Ryan, rector of the Episcopal church, her 
eldest brother Emanuel and his wife being the witnesses. 
About midnight we took the train, going north for Manning; 
where we remained over the Sunday, and attended services 
at the Episcopal church, leaving on the evening train for 
Megalopolis. In the latter city we remained one day, and 
then took the cars for Brushville, Eudoxia county, Greeley, 
where my mother and brother Joe were then living. At 
Whiskeyville we stayed one day to call on my brother Rich- 
ard, arriving at Brushville on Thursday the 22nd. Here we 
were given a hearty welcome by my mother and brother, 
who were both very glad that I was married to a young lady 
whose beauty and goodness won everybody’s admiration. 

It was only two or three days after I had left Winterton, 
Calhoun, when yellow-fever was admitted to be in the town. 
It was said to have been brought there by a young man from 
Magnoliaville. That yellow-fever had been in the city some 
days before I left, and that I had it on my leaving, I have 
not the slightest doubt. The physician who attended me at 
Brushville, asserted I had had it, and my physical condition 
convinced me of the truth of his assertion. During the 
latter days of August and the early part of September, I 
almost lost the use of my legs; and the pains I suffered 
from the passage of gall-stones through the liver, was almost 
indescribable. My appetite also entirely failed me ; and it. 


174 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


was not until three or four years afterwards that I was able 
to eat with any degree of comfort. I was completely 
broken down; nor do I think my former health has ever 
fully returned. For years afterwards I freqently experienced 
the greatest difficulty and severe pain in rising from my 
knees after prayer, the weakness in. my back was so great. 

Notwithstanding my great weakness, as soon as I learned 
that my parish had been visited by the plague, I addressed 
a letter to Dr. Charles Priestly, my junior warden, and after- 
wards another to Mr. Robert Powell, mayor of the city, 
asserting my readiness to return, provided they thought my 
presence desirable. To these letters I received the follow- 
ing replies: 

“Winterton, Calhoun, Sep. 9th, 1878. 

“Mr. Bray. 

“My dear Friend, — Your letter was received some time 
■since; but I have been so heavily taxed day and night that 
I am worn down bodily and mentally, and heart-sick at 
scenes of desolation and woe. Our little town is one of 
mourning, and the angel of death is truly among us. Our 
little flock has suffered severely, and some of our best are 
gone among them. Most of your people are in the country; 
all that are here join me in saying you should not return 
just yet, as you would only add fuel to the already unman- 
ageable flame. 

“ Yours truly, 

Charles Priestly, (junior warden).” 

“Winterton, Calhoun, Sep. 19th, 1878. 
“Rev. Thomas Henry Truro Bray, 

Brushville, Greeley. 

“Dear Sir, — Your favor of the 14th instant is at hand, 
and contents noted. I have shown your letter to all the 
members of your congregation in town, and they are unan- 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 175 

imous in the opinion, which I fully indorse, that it would be 
madness in you to return to this place at the present time. 

“ I am sorry to hear of your sickness, and hope that you 
will soon be restored to your usual health. 

“ The town is very gloomy, and the very air seems filled 
with the disease. The companion of to-day is the corpse of 
to-morrow. God help us. I reckon better days will come 
after awhile. 

“ Don’t come back here under any circumstances, until 
the fever is over. All send love. 

“ Yours truly, 

Robert Powell, (mayor).” 

Knowing my great weakness, and believing the authors 
of the above letters, being on the ground and well acquainted 
with all the circumstances, knew better than myself what 
was needed, and how I should act, I followed their advice, 
.and remained where I might receive the benefit of a most 
invigorating atmosphere. From a loving mother, faithful 
brother, and a most devoted wife, I received every possible 
care; and I myself made use of every means calculated 
to aid in the restoration of my health. But with all the care 
and attention I received, it was nevertheless at least two 
months before any degree of strength and health returned. 
Even then I was pale, thin and weak; but I felt more cheer- 
ful, a little stronger, and on a fair road to recovery. Had 
the members of my congregation expressed any desire for 
my presence, I undoubtedly should have gone back imme- 
diately, on the very wings of love, although it would, in all 
probability, have cost me my life, as I was not as yet accli- 
mated. But I do not mean by this, I should have thought 
it wise to return; I simply mean, and God is my witness, 
that I would have laid my life down rather than that my 
people should ask for my presence in vain, or think of me 


176 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


as being afraid of the disease. But as I did not think it 
then, so I do not think it now, a sign of bravery for one to 
sacrifice his life, where duty calls him not. If the belief be 
true, that the prayers of a priest at the dying bed, or the 
reception of a sacrament by the dying, can materially affect 
the future of the soul, then there would be no question but 
that, weak as I was, I should have gone back, even against 
the express wish of my people; but such belief I did not 
and can not accept; nor do I believe that any enlightened 
and unprejudiced mind can. I never had any faith in death- 
bed repentance; and I fully believed that one good nurse 
was worth any number of praying priests, at the bed-side 
of any sick man. That the mercy of God is conditioned 
on the prayers of a priest, or heaven opened by the power 
of the church, I consider not only an absurd but a blas- 
phemous claim. Thus believing, the only use, in my judg- 
ment, I could be to the sick, would be to act as a nurse; 
and knowing that my weakness and inexperience rendered 
me unfit to act in that capacity, I concluded it wise to accept 
the advice of competent men who warned me not to return; 
and to stay where my life, in all probability, would be spared 
as a blessing to those most dear to me, and dependent on 
my exertion. And although, as I afterwards learned, the 
bishop of the diocese was not pleased at my decision, I 
donbt not that any sane and unprejudiced man would have 
approved my course. Where duty has called me, there I 
have never known what it is to be afraid; but I have always 
thought it most unwise, if not sinful, to rush unreasonably 
into danger. Says Aristotle, than whom, perhaps, no nobler 
person has ever lived: 

c &<tt £7cet 7) avdp£ta £<7Tiv rj ££cs 7T£pt (poplous xai dappy 7 , 

d£t d£ p.rjd ’ 6utids u)S 61 0 pa(T£is pLyf? 1 out ids ws 6 c (SecAoq drjAov <bs 
ij p.£(7fj dca0£ffcs OpaGurrjTos xac d£cXcas £<rrtv avdp£ca .... 
l H yap avdp£ca axoXouOrjffcs rw \oyio e < mv , 6 d£ Xoyos to xakov 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 177 

dtpetadat x-ksost. Ato xat c o pi) 3ta zoozov bnopeviav aura, ouzos 
TjTot e^azryx-v 7) epaffos. c 0 /J tsv ouv Sstkos xat a pi) Set (pofietzat, 
6 xs Opaaus xat a pr) 3st Oapptt' 6 3 ’ avdpstos ap<pio d Set, xat 
zauzr) psaos eaztv. C A yap av 0 kayos xekeui 7 , zauza xat Oappet 
xat (pofistzat — Since true manliness is the best state in rela- 
tion to fear and rashness, and since it is necessary that the 
truly brave should be neither such as the rash man is nor 
such as is the coward, it is evident that the middle state be- 
tween rashness and cowardice, is true manliness. True 
bravery is obedience to the reason, and reason bids us strive 
for that which is noble. Therefore, he who, when surrounded 
by danger, is not guided by reason, is either cowardly or 
rash. The coward fears where he should not, and the rash 
man is fearless where he should not be. But the truly brave 
acts in both instances as he should, and, therefore, fills the 
middle position ; for he is both fearless and fearful as rea- 
son directs him.” (Eud. Eth. Ill, 1, [ 3 - 4 , 10-12.]) 

As far as the fear of death has affected me, I have often 
longed to die, to escape, as it were, from a prison, and to see 
if perchance there be something better in store for me ; no 
less than to be forever free from a world, where the insincere 
and the pretentious are received with the plaudits of the 
crowd, while the candid and truly learned seek in vain for 
recognition. It can not be doubted that humanity is as 
greatly deceived, as it is given to deception. Mankind likes 
flattery, and to be made the heir of great expectations. It 
is this in man that offers such great opportunities to the 
hypocritical, the insincere and the pretentious, whether in 
the pulpit or elsewhere ; it is this that gives the holy knave 
and the rascally politician such open fields to reap their 
golden harvests. But longed as I have to die, reason bids 
me wait my time ; to be brave, sincere and true, no less for 
my own sake than as an example to others. I wonder not, 
however, at people committing suicide ; for it takes a brave 


12 


i 7 8 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


man to withstand the many evils to which more especially 
the good are frequently subjected ; the less brave, becoming 
disheartened, seek rest in death. As Agathon says : 
cc Qaukoi ftporuiv yap tod novetv y<r<Tto/i£vot 
Oavsiv epwfftv — Base mortals, being worsted in the 
conflict of life, prefer to die.” 

But the truly brave will abide his time, doing as best he 
can, whatever his hands may find to do ; showing a noble 
example of patience and suffering to his own and to others, 
hoping thereby to ennoble his own character, and to elevate 
the race. He will not sacrifice his life nor jeopardize it, ex- 
cept for noble and worthy ends ; but where the voice of 
reason calls him, there, if it be proper, he is willing to yield 
his life into the hands of Him who gave it. It was in this 
spirit I acted with reference to my work in the South ; but 
on November the ist, 1878, I received from the secretary of 
the vestry a letter informing me that the bishop had with- 
drawn from the parish its missionary appropriation. This 
act of the bishop was designed to make it impossible for the 
parish to support me. I therefore sent the secretary my 
resignation of the rectorship of Grace Church, Winterton, to 
take immediate effect. It was shortly after I had done this 
that I received the following letter from one of the most 
prominent communicants of the parish : 

“Winterton, Calhoun, Dec. 6th, 1878. 

“ My dear friend, — I must write you to express my dis- 
tress at the news of your resignation of the charge of Grace 
Church. I have seen nearly all the people, and they express 
the greatest regret and distress ; and all are resolved to ac- 
cept nobody else. We need you so much, — indeed I can 
not reconcile myself to the idea of your never coming back. 
Will you not come back to us ? All are so much distressed 
at your not returning. Can you not be induced to come 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 


179 


back ? Why should you care for what any one else might 
do or say, when all of us want you. Do say you will come 
back. I can not express to you the disappointment of 
your people. 

“ Your friend, 

“ Mary Cooper.” 

Notwithstanding my great love for the people of Grace 
Church, and their love for me, the bishop’s unfriendly atti- 
tude made me abandon all hope of returning, and seek 
another field of labor. 

Saturday, November 23rd, we left Brushville in company 
with my brother and mother, bound for the state of Adams. 
We first visited in that state the town of Mountainville, for 
the purpose of seeing my sister Elizabeth Anna, whom I had 
not seen for fourteen years. As we approached her resi- 
dence, she saw me at least a block away, came to meet me, 
and with tears streaming down her cheeks, exclaimed: “Oh, 
father ! father ! ” intending by this to show her recognition 
of our father in me. My dear sister had greatly changed. 
She had lost by death her husband in England, and was now 
a widow having the care of five children. The marks of 
anxiety were deeply impressed on her countenance, and she 
was pale and emaciated. She was at all times a most duti- 
ful and devoted daughter, and an affectionate sister. 

On January 3rd, 1879, by the advice of the bishop of the 
state, I moved to Rockton, having accepted the position of 
assistant to Rev. Thomas Studious, rector of Calvary Church 
in that town, with the understanding that I could leave at 
any time after the end of three months, and that my salary 
should commence from January 1st. 

Rockton was a town of about three thousand inhabitants, 
situated at the foot of the hills, by the mouth of a canon. 
The parish was not a large one, but the rector, being much 
engaged in school-work, needed some one to assist him in 


i8o 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


doing the ministerial duties. Besides, either from his doubts 
as to the validity of the grounds upon which the minister 
bases his claims, or the ill success that had attended his 
labors in the state of Adams, he did not like his priestly office, 
saying to me one day : “ I frequently wish I had never seen 
the ministry ; I can do, I fully believe, much more good in 
the educational field.'’ I was somewhat surprised at this 
remark ; but Mr. Studious was a student, and I have since 
learned that no man is more troubled with religious doubts 
and fears than the studious priest. So I presume he was 
glad to be rid, even if only for a short period, of the un- 
pleasant duty of making statements which he knew were 
based upon grounds that have always given away at the ap- 
proach of critical reason, or investigating science. 

While I was in this parish, most of the preaching fell on 
me, Mr. Studious giving his special attention to a school 
which he was then laboring hard to establish. He had the 
appearance of a disappointed man. He had failed, as before 
stated, and the cause of his failure he largely attributed to 
the bishop, whom he accused, as many others did, of laboring 
to injure the educational interests of Rockton, in order that 
such work might be removed to Churchton, which the bishop 
thought should be the centre of all the educational work of 
the diocese. 

My salary was quite small in Rockton, and in order to 
live within our income, we rented two rooms, having, at the 
same time, the privilege of using the kitchen. In these 
rooms we kept house, small and undesirable as they were ; 
but the poverty-stricken aspect of the dwelling was trans- 
formed by the presence of Mabel, as if by a magician’s wand, 
into a mansion where moved an angel whose smile could but 
sweeten the bitterest cup of life. 

One might judge of the character of the sermons I de- 
livered, while in this place, by the frequent assertion of those 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 181 

who heard them : “ His sermons set one thinking.” Be- 

coming myself more and more full of doubts and fears as to 
the truth of many of the fundamental tenets of orthodoxy, I 
was naturally prone to preach on great subjects wherein I 
was obliged to discuss the credibility of Christian dogmas, 
as if to unburden myself of the load of doubt I bore. Even 
then, though conforming in outward act to ecclesiastical law, 
I was at heart as free as a bird on wing, to go all the way 
my reason should lead me. 

Having thus settled in work in the diocese of Adams, I 
thought it wise to ask of my former bishop, who I supposed, 
for reasons given, might be glad to get rid of me, letters 
dimissory. In accordance with my request, I received the 
following letter which I presented the bishop of Adams, to 
perfect my status as a minister under his jurisdiction : 

“ Oreopolis, Davis, Feb. 4th, 1879. 
u Right Rev. X. Y. Wundergross, 

“ Missionary Bishop of Adams, etc. 

“ I hereby certify that the Rev. Thomas Henry Truro 
Bray, who has expressed to me his desire to be transferred 
to the jurisdiction of the missionary bishop of the state of 
Adams, is a deacon in regular standing in the diocese of 
Calhoun ; and has not, so far as I know or believe, been 
justly liable to evil report, for error in religion or viciousness 
of life, for three years last past. 

“ Omicron Micropsychus, 

“ Bishop of Calhoun.” 

“ Right Rev. and dear Sir : — 

“ While giving you the above canonical transfer, I feel 
bound to state that I can only with perfect propriety testify 
in behalf of Mr. Bray for the last twelve months. For the 
other two years I must refer you to the bishop of Jefferson 
from whom I received him. 

“ You will find in Mr. Bray a man of unusual natural 


1 82 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


ability, and of superior attainments. He is an earnest 
worker, and during his stay in my diocese did much towards 
reviving a declining parish. 

“Very truly, 

“ Your brother in Christ, 

“ Omicron Micropsychus. 

“ P. S. I ought to add that Mr. Bray has already satis- 
factorily passed his examinations for priest’s orders. 

“O. M.” 

Just before I accepted work in Rockton, I contemplated 
taking charge of an educational institution. To this end 
I wrote the president of the University of Aristopolis, re- 
questing a recommendation, and received the following let- 
ter to which was affixed the university seal : 

“ Aristopolis University, Aristopolis, Canada, 

“ Dec. 26th, ’78. 

“ This certifies that the Rev. Thomas Henry Truro 
Bray is a fit and competent person to take charge of an 
academy for the education of youth. He is a man of 
high sense of honor, and one in whom school authorities 
may place entire confidence. He will not slight or be remiss 
in any work he may undertake to perform. 

“ I cordially bespeak for him the favorable consideration 
of all persons among whom his lot may be cast. 

[Seal.] “ V. Kallovir, (president).” 

My salary, as I have said, being small, I was always 
seeking a better position ; and the bishop had prom- 
ised to use his influence to advance me at the earliest op- 
portunity. I was but a deacon, therefore could not dis- 
charge all the duties which fall on the rector of a parish. 
In order to remedy this, it was necessary for me to be or- 
dained to the priesthood. Having obtained the canonical 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 183 

requirements, getting the clerical testimonial from the Rev. 
Muthig of the diocese of Jefferson, I placed them in the 
hands of the bishop, with the request that I be ordained to 
the priesthood, as soon as he could with perfect propriety 
do so. 

I loved the Episcopal Church, not for her theology, not 
for her so-called apostolic succession, not for her creeds ; 
but for her solemn and stately service, her beautiful songs 
and chants, and for the many ways found in her of lifting 
the soul to its God. At the same time, though I could not 
say I really disbelieved any of her dogmas, I nevertheless 
was full of doubts and fears. If one should have said, for 
instance, “ Do you believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ ?” 
I would have answered, “yes ; ” but should he have said, 
“ Do you believe without a doubt that Jesus Christ is God?” 
I could not truthfully have answered the question affirma- 
tively. There is much ambiguity in this word, “ divinity ; ” 
and there is not less in the word, “ faith.” In using the 
latter word, there is^lso much sophistry practiced. When 
the orthodox theologian says he believes in the divinity of 
Jesus Christ, he means thereby that he believes that Jesus 
Christ is God himself. But one may say, and thousands do, 
he believes in the divinity of Jesus Christ, and yet not 
believe that he is the infinite Deity who is the life, fulness 
and potency of the whole universe. So also may one say, 
“I believe,” when, at the same time, the heart is torn with a 
tempest of doubt and fear. Indeed, hundreds, thousands 
of ministers, and millions of people, say weekly, “ I believe,” 
who, at the same time, like the apostle of old, might say, 
with much more propriety, “ Lord, help my unbelief.” The 
lips drop the words, “ I believe ; ” the heart stores up the 
exclamation, “ Oh, that I knew the truth of what I now 
assert ! ” If ministers were asked, “ Do you believe in the 
divinity of Jesus Christ?” for the most part, and for many 


184' 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


reasons, they would answer, “yes ; ” but if they were asked 
the far more searching question, “ Is there no doubt at all 
in your heart that Jesus Christ is God Almighty ? ” I know 
from my relations with them for the last fifteen years that 
they could not truthfully answer the question affirmatively. 
I have been acquainted with many ministers, I have talked 
seriously with many ; but never with one who, when closely 
questioned in confidence, would not admit- the existence of 
the uncertainty which dwells, to a greater or less extent, 
according to the degree of education, in the breast, as I 
believe, of all I have ever known. This could not be other- 
wise ; for who of all the learned critics, philosophers, scien- 
tists and historians, having examined the evidence contained 
in Scripture and elsewhere, upon which are founded the 
dogmas of orthodoxy, is satisfied, beyond doubt, of the truth 
of these dogmas ? I answer, not one. This also could not 
be otherwise ; for in the words of a contemporary writer : 
“There is hardly one fact known to be the undoubted result 
of modern science, which does not shatter to pieces the 
whole fabric of orthodoxy.” Among those who have made 
a thorough investigation of this subject, the opinion of Mill 
may in general be said to be held in common : “ In the 

Christianity of the Gospels, at least in its ordinary interpre- 
tation, there are moral difficulties and perversions of so fla- 
grant a character as almost to outweigh all the beauty and 
benignity and moral greatness which so eminently distin- 
guish the sayings and character of Christ. . . . The di- 

vine message, assuming it to be such, has been authenticated 
by credentials so insufficient that they fail to convince a 
large proportion of the strongest and most cultivated minds; 
and the tendency to disbelieve them appears to grow with 
the growth of scientific knowledge and critical discrimina- 
tion.” (Utility of Religion.) 

Ministers are men, and some of them are educated. Of 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 185 

the educated portion all have their doubts and fears in com- 
mon with the rest of mankind. But why, it may be asked, 
do they then not acknowledge these doubt more plainly than 
they do ? Such a question may readily be answered : Why 
does not the lawyer expose to judge and jury the weakness 
of his case ? Why does not the physician acknowledge his 
ignorance of the disease which, as a hawk, eats the life of 
his patient away ? He who can answer these questions, and 
every sensible person can, is equally prepared, if he only 
will, to give a satisfactory reason why the minister exposes 
not the weakness of his creed. He who can not give such 
a satisfactory reason, would likely receive no help from me, 
however fully I might explain it ; for being credulous and 
superstitious, it is very improbable that he would be capable 
of appreciating such explanation, or that his opinion would 
be changed by argument. 

For my own part I never sought to hide the doubts and 
fears which more and more took up their abode in my 
breast. On many occasions they were stated readily and 
•clearly; at other times they might frequently be inferred 
from the broad and rationalistic assertions I made in my 
sermons. Few are they, however, who will thus “ kick against 
the pricks.” I remember well when, some years after the 
time of which I am now writing, the Rev. Grossventre 
preached for me, then rector of Christ Church, Flumville, 
state of Jackson, he made certain statements in his sermon, 
very offensive to me; and to which I afterwards, when in the 
vestry with him, took exception. He acknowledged he had 
his doubts about the truth of the statements he had made, 
— indeed, that he could not say in his heart he believed 
them; however, he had made them, he said, from the force 
of custom and habit, and because they were in general be- 
lieved by church people. He was sorry, he said, that he 
had made them, since they had offended me. On question- 


i86 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


ing him, I discovered that he knew scarcely anything of 
modern thought, or of the more prominent modern authors. 
So radically lacking was he in the information of the present 
day that he confessed he was ashamed, and said: “I 
wish, Dr. Bray, that I could be near you that I might take 
up such studies; for even the little education I had, I have 
never improved, being not naturally given to study.” Now, 
this man who could thus admit his doubts, was but a short 
time afterwards made a bishop in Popetown, Jackson. On 
this occasion he took good care to hide whatever doubts or 
fears his bosom possessed; yes, indeed ! and the reason may 
be readily inferred: the power and prestige and salary of a 
bishop were weighty enough to more than balance any little 
conscientious scruples of belief or disbelief he may have 
had. 

In proof of my independence of spirit, and my rational- 
istic tendencies, at the time I was in Rockton, I will here 
give a portion of a sermon on Moral Freedom, which I de- 
livered in that place, on the fourth Sunday in Lent, March 
23rd, 1879: 

“‘Fingunt semul creduntque,’ is an old proverb, and 
means that when one makes an hypothesis in explanation of 
any phenomena, he will at once contend for its truth. An ig- 
norant preacher declaring vehemently the thoughts of his 
heart, is wont to say he speaks by the inspiration of the 
Holy Ghost. If a man contends wilfully for the truth of 
error, he paralyzes his mind, and renders himself incapable 
to search for further truth; even if he only unintentionally 
does this, he is liable to be confirmed in the belief of his 
error. These results are seen with fearful effects in religion. 
We find Augustine, for instance, a rational-minded Chris- 
tian, before his contention with Pelagius; but after this 
he becomes as much of an extremist on the one side, as Pe- 
lagius was on the other. Indeed, I can not think that 'the 


ORDINATION TO THE DIACONATE. 187 

teachings of the latter are near as baneful as those of the 
former. Augustine lays down premises, and through his 
blinding passion to conquer, strives, according to the pro- 
verb, to make himself and others believe that his conclu- 
sions are true. Adam, he tells us, was created with a nature 
‘posse non peccare et non rnori,’ that is, with such a na- 
ture that he might have lived free from sin and free from 
death; but having transgressed, Adam, he says, became 
‘ non posse non peccare et non mori,’ that is, became such 
that he could not live without sin nor without death. Now, 
since man is declared in Scripture incapable of self-redemp- 
tion, Augustine holds that it is evident that as many as are 
saved, are saved by grace; and since all are not saved, al- 
though they would be, that it is not because of their lack of 
desire, but because of the eternal and unconditional decree 
of God. Thus we find Augustine denying the freedom of 
the mind, offering us an absurd gospel, and presenting us 
with a god the most unjust and base. All this he does in 
contention for what he has assumed. This is the predesti- 
nation theory which has its advocates in the Christian 
church of to-day, and which, if true, would induce me to 
be very charitable of the devil’s sin, and conclude God not 
only the author and builder of hell, but also of all the sin in 
the universe. Such false doctrine kills the soul of the 
teacher, and certainly unfits it for noble living or noble dy- 
ing, by philosophically destroying the highest incentives to 
virtue, and reducing man to a mere tool. 

“ Belief saves nobody; the truth only saves. If we would 
be saved, we must know the truth, for truth only has the 
power of giving life. But if a man would preach the truth 
and the truth only, he must dig carefully and deep, as if for 
hidden treasures. To do this there is need of a mind well 
furnished not only with theological knowledge, but also 
with that of science in general; for every science is subsid- 


i88 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


iary to theological knowledge. The minister, therefore, 
should be a man of the broadest culture, tenacious of the 
truth, and fearful of nothing but error. He should be sat- 
isfied with the substance only, and not with the shadow; 
with the reality, and not with the appearance.” 

It must be admitted that such teaching as this quotation 
contains, must make men think for themselves, and, there- 
fore, cast off to a great extent the shackles of dogmas and 
superstition. It enforces the fact that it is not belief nor a 
name which saves the soul, but truth and truth only; and 
since man can be saved by truth only, such teaching leads 
him to inquire carefully into the character of his religious 
belief. The natural result of such teaching is to make men 
rationalistic, and, therefore, ready to discover any error in 
their religious belief. Such men soon find that there is 
much of Christian dogma which can not stand the investi- 
gation of a critical mind. 


CHAPTER VIL 

ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD, AND WORK 
CONTINUED. 

On the second Sunday in Lent, March 9th, 1879, in 
Trinity Church, Churchton, in the state of Adams, I was 
ordained to the priesthood by the Right Rev X. Y. Wun- 
dergross, bishop of Adams, assisted by the Revs. Slimman and 
Trickster, the former presenting me. The ordination ser- 
mon was preached by the bishop, from the first and second 
verses of the fourth chapter of the First Epistle to the 
Corinthians. Just after the ordination services, I wrote in 
Greek, in my Hebrew bible, the following sentence: 

“ lhlZTU) £V(D7CtOV TOO 0£OO Xdl TZpOGXOVU) TOV XOptOV 0 $ TZSTtOlfjXt 
p.£ TZp£GfioT£pO\> Xdl dooAoV TOO %plGTOO TOO Zu)T7]pOS EpLOO. 1 fall 

down before God, and worship the Lord who has made me 
a priest and slave of Christ, my Savior.” These words 
flowed from a most earnest and devoted heart; and their 
literal characters are not the mere scratches of a pen, but 
the true imprints of a soul. As I read them to-day, a sol- 
emn question rises in my breast: “ Have you been true to 
the promise contained in these words ? Have you been 
true to the God and Lord before whom you fell down and 
worshipped?” I answer myself thus: If a man promises 
to live faithful to all the injunctions of the Koran, is he 
morally and rightfully bound to keep his promises, in regard 
to those injunctions which he afterwards discovers are 
neither useful nor true? Do Latimer and Luther and Rid- 
ley fasten upon themselves the charge of moral turpitude, 
because they broke their ordination vows? All that a man 

' 189 


190 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


can rightfully mean in his ordination vows, is that he will be 
faithful in the discharge of what he believes to be his duty. 
No person can possibly be faithful to God, who is not first 
of all faithful to his own convictions of right and truth. 
The highest obligation a man can have, is the discharge of 
what he believes to be his duty, as day by day, in his event- 
ful and progressing life, he is called on to determine what 
his hands and heart shall do. There can be no virtue or 
moral worth belonging to an act that is not done in accord- 
ance with the convictions of duty, it matters not how remun- 
erative or apparently successful such an act may be. He 
who would fall down before God and worship Him, must 
take care to do so, first of all and more than all, in his own 
heart, the place where God delights to dwell, and where He 
most reveals himself. Yes, I kept the vows of my soul: I 
was true to my convictions of duty, however much the pain 
I suffered in discharging the same. When I read the above 
words, therefore, I do not feel I have been unfaithful; but I 
do feel pained at the thought that the narrowness and dark- 
ness of the church I gave my life to, denied me the privilege 
of falling down and worshipping my God, within her walls, 
or of completing the work which reverently and fearfully I 
undertook to perform. In the best and truest sense, I kept 
my promise; but when my expanding and rising soul was 
refused a little space within the walls of superstition, I was 
compelled to seek a temple whose chancel has never been 
polluted, nor altar desecrated, either by the hollow mockery 
of proud and designing bishops, or the false heartedness of 
poorly educated and hypocritical priests, — the temple whose 
doors are never closed, whose lights are ever burning, whose 
walls are subject to no decay; and where, entering into her 
portals, a refuge from superstition, bigotry and tyranny, the 
best and greatest who have ever lived, have found closest 
communion with their God, — the temple of Reason. 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 191 

With the expectation of being offered a better position, 
on Monday, April 7th, 1879, I resigned my work in Calvary 
parish, Rockton; and in about three weeks from that time, 
was elected to the rectorship of St. Peter’s Church, Lowton, 
in the same state. The rectorship to which I was now 
elected, was really my first; for being only a deacon, while 
in Winterton, Calhoun, I was not, strictly speaking, rector 
of Grace Church in that town, but only minister in charge. 
The people of Lowton, were, therefore, the first to whom as 
rector I preached, and administered the sacraments; and as 
such I filled the pulpit of St. Peter’s, for the first time, on 
the last Sunday in April, my salary commencing from the 
first of May. 

Lowton was a growing town, and I hoped by faithful and 
hard labor to make my coming into it a success, as well for 
myself as the parish. Provisions of all kinds were very ex- 
pensive; but my salary being about twenty per cent higher 
than at Rockton, I hoped it might be sufficient with economy 
to provide me with a comfortable living. 

Having while at Rockton purchased only sufficient furnit- 
ure for the two rooms we occupied, we found it necessary, 
at the beginning of my work in Lowton, to add very much 
to our stock of household goods, in order to have sufficient 
for a comparatively large house. To do this I was obliged 
to get some things on credit, which necessity was very 
grievous to me; for my nature has always been such as to 
magnify a small debt into huge proportions robbing me of 
peace by day, and rest by night. But although persons of 
such nature are more subject to worry than those who are 
not so anxious promptly to discharge all their liabilities, yet 
I am thankful to God that I am one of those who look on 
the relation subsisting between creditor and debtor, as that 
of master and slave, and shun it accordingly. I have known 
several ministers to whom the habit of incurring debt has 


9 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


brought disrespect and contempt; and I believe no more 
ruinous trait can be a part of anyone’s nature than the tend- 
ency to incur debt. There are times, no doubt, when the 
noblest nature should become a debtor; but it is safe to say 
that, unless it be in the regular order of business trans- 
actions, a man should shun incurring a debt, as forming a 
relation both dangerous and dishonoring. 

I was but a short time the rector of St. Peter’s before I 
discovered that the membership of the church was divided 
into parties among which not a little strife existed and much 
bitterness, which greatly impeded the progress of all church 
effort. It was not Christ, nor God, nor primarily the church 
whose good was sought ; but low-church and high-churcli 
strove to impede each other, and cast contempt on each 
other’s efforts, hoping thereby to achieve their own selfish 
ends. The low-church wanted none of the high church, and 
the high-church wanted none of the low-church ; and between 
them both they “ licked the platter clean.” For although 
they little knew what they wanted, they managed to keep 
the minister upon the horns of a dilemma. Not only did 
this feeling make them attack each other’s church principles, 
but also each other’s integrity, moral character, and social 
standing. One day Mrs. S calls, and begs, even warns, me 
not to advance to any position of influence Mrs. So-and-so : 
“ She has a very bad name, Mr. Bray, not only among 
church people, but also among the people of the town in 
general. The truth is, nearly all of our own people refuse 
to take the sacrament with her. Her life is anything but 
what it should be. It will not do for the people of the parish 
to think that you look on her with any degree of favor, 
which they will do, if you give her any position of influence.” 
The next day Mrs. So-and-so calls to show me how neces- 
sary it is that I relegate to obscurity Mrs. S : “ Her repu- 

tation is not of the best, Mr. Bray ; indeed, although I am 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 193 

sorry that I feel it my duty to speak of the matter, the best 
people of the parish do not care to associate with her. It is 
for your sake I come more than for anything else. As a 
friend I advise you not to yield to her influence ; it would 
do you and your work in Lowton a great deal of harm.” My 
invariable reply to such visitors was that I was pained to 
know of any bad feelings among the people of my parish, and 
that I hoped it would subside. To this end it was necessary 
that they should overlook as much as possible one another’s 
faults. I can not say, however, that my advice was taken. 
My own experience with church members in general is, that 
they are no more merciful or charitable in their judgment 
than the so-called godless inhabitants of the land. Even in 
the guild-meetings of the church, to every ounce of really 
useful work effected, there is generally produced one pound 
of back-biting and slander. In order to give no one a just 
cause for finding fault, I tried to keep a middle course, mak- 
ing favorites of none, and showing equal kindness and 
attention to all ; but even this course failed to provide me 
an orbit wherein somebody in the parish, would not dash 
against me. Such collisions in parish-work are constant, 
sometimes seen, and sometimes unseen ; but whether 
seen or unseen, their effects are soon recognised by the 
consequent heat and smoke generated, — that is by the bad 
and discouraged feeling which follows. One wished water 
mixed with the wine, in the sacrament ; another protested 
against such a custom. One desired wafers instead of 
common bread; another cried out “Romanism!” One 
believed that all should genuflect at the name of Jesus ; 
another thought such an act almost obscene. One wished 
the choir and the congregation to bow at the name of 
Jesus, and at the mention of the trisagion ; another scouted 
the idea as ridiculous nonsense. Such conflict of desires 
gave me, who was but a novice, not a little perplexity ; but 
13 


i 9 4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


in the midst of all this Babel there was at least one person 
in whose spirit there were enthroned quietude and devotion ; 
and looking into that face, I never failed to receive a 
quieting and purifying influence ; that face was the face of 
Mabel. In the services of the church, an inspiration seemed 
to seize her, — her whole soul rising up, like a mighty sea of 
faith and trust, to meet the Infinite Spirit, as He descended 
down upon her. It was a solace to me to catch a glimpse of 
her face during my preaching, — her very look of tender 
love revealing to me the riches I possessed, and filling my 
mind and spirit with faith and thought. With others I 
might find discord ; with her I found peace. 

On Tuesday, September 2nd, 1879, j°y an d gladness came 
to both Mabel and myself; for it was at half-past five o’clock 
in the morning of that day that Mabel first became a mother. 
Mother and baby did well, and the child soon appeared like 
an angel in earthly form : it was strikingly beautiful, its 
long, golden hair lying profusely on the pillow, and its 
matchless features filling the heart of the mother with 
delight. When twenty-six days old, on Sunday the 28th, the 
mother carried the child to church, where it was baptized 
by its father, receiving the name of Mary Lavinia, I. T. 
Coates, M. D. of Philadelphia, and rny mother acting as 
god-parents. 

Beautiful, beautiful sky, 

Decked with pearls so bright ; 

Palace of angels on high, 

Flooded with roseate light ! 

Thy worlds forever in harmony roll 
To the music of God who is harmony’s soul. 

Beautiful, beautiful earth, 

Beating with live-giving love , 

Bursting with laughter and mirth, 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 195 

Radiant with light from above ! 

Thy lawns and thy bowers, entrancingly sweet, 

Are a temple of God where we kneel at his feet. 

Beautiful, beautiful child, 

Light that scatters our gloom ; 

Cheerful and trustful and mild, 

Emblem of life from the tomb ! 

May angels to thee as guardians be given, 

Directing hnd guiding thy footsteps to heaven. (H.T.B.) 

It was a holy and inspiring sight, to see this mother clasp 
the infant to her breast. As I write the infant, now a girl 
of ten years, is by my side ; but where is the mother? The 
child may cry, but the mother heeds it not ; the husband 
may call, but the wife answers him not ; his heart may yearn, 
but the loved one cometh not. Narrow as the bridge may 
be which divides us, the silence which reigns between the 
living and the dead, is most awful; and the abortive attempt 
to fathom those depths of darkness or penetrate that all-per- 
vading gloom, seems almost to paralyze the soul. Yet we 
dutifully and fearlessly await the lifting of the vail, assured 
that whatever then results, all must be well. The eye will 
shed its burning tears, the breast will heave with painful 
emotion, the heart will wildly beat ; but reason says: “ The 
cup which thou dost drink, complaint will never sweeten. 
Hard as thy lot may be, be true unto thyself and those whom 
God hath given thee ; and when the labor of thy day has 
past, the night must bring thee sweeter rest.” 

I will here give a sermon delivered by me on the morn- 
ing of September 28th, 1879, the last Sunday of my rectorate 
in Lowton. It is based on Num. xxii, 22, and is entitled 
the “ Heavenly Adversary 

“ Near the close of Israel’s wanderings, and on the eastern 
side of the Jordan, opposite Jericho, might have been seen 
two men, Balak and Balaam, the former being the king of 


196 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Moab, the latter his heathen priest. Balak saw what the chosen 
people had lately done to the Amorites, and fearful that his 
own subjects might be dispossessed of their country by these 
strange Israelites, who, he says, were sufficiently numerous 
to ‘ lick up all around about them as the ox licketh up the 
grass of the field,’ besought Balaam to importune with God 
to rid him of the Israelitish immigrators. 

“ Whoever Balaam was, as a priest he stood high in the 
hearts of the people, and, without reasonable doubt, was in 
favor with God ; for the king says : I know whom thou 
blessest, is blest ; and whom thou cursest, is cursed. He 
therefore sent the elders of his people with gilts to his priest 
that he might intercede in his behalf, and turn Jehovah 
against the chosen race. As asked, Balaam prays, but is 
commanded not to curse whom the Lord hath blessed. Ba- 
lak does not yet despair. He appeals to the pride of the 
priest by sending him princes as messengers bearing the 
promise of great promotion, and even of royal obedience, if 
only the priest come, and pray against the Israelites ; but 
Balaam nobly says: If Balak would give me his house full 
of silver and gold, I can not go beyond the word of the Lord 
my God to do less or more. Again the word of the Lord is 
unfavorable to the king who once more importunes his priest 
to plead with God against the Israelites. Five times does 
this priest, by request of the king, seek to know if God will 
oppose the progress of the Israelites. After his second in- 
tercession with God, and on going to have a personal inter- 
view with the king, he is met on his way by the Angel of 
Jehovah who opposes his progress with drawn sword. The 
priest forthwith confesses his sins, but pleads his ignorance 
of having God for an adversary. On the whole the charac- 
ter of this heathen priest compares very favorably with that 
of the Christian priests of to-day ; for the word that God 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 197 

put into his mouth, that would he speak, and none other, 
though his house were filled with silver and gold. 

“ In considering our very important subject, we shall 
seek to throw light upon the question, when may we expect 
to be opposed by the heavenly adversary. 

“ (I) : Rome is coming into prominence. The descend- 
ants of Romulus and Remus, though at first despised by the 
Carthaginians, are now getting to be treated with deference. 
Their merchant-ships frequent ports hitherto visited by the 
Carthaginians only. The city upon seven hills must be 
plowed up, if Carthage holds her sway. One of the bravest 
and most skilful generals that ever led armies to battle, is 
sworn by deadly oath never to sheathe his sword, till hated 
Rome be humbled. The foes have their priests who day by 
day plead with God for victory ; the generals and the sol- 
diers gaze into the face of God for a sign. Heaven and 
earth are invoked by the hostile armies ; thousands upon 
thousands lie weltering in their blood ; the eternal city is 
threatened, but the tide turns. Rome sails out to sea a 
stately ship, and mistress of the world ; Carthage is thrown 
on shore a pitiable hulk, and left to be buried by the drift- 
ing sands of time. These countries were not Christian ; but 
who dares to say that no praying hearts were found among 
these people ? Could a man be the author of Cato Major, 
and never pray to God ? Could the heathen priests and 
temples receive from the people such lavish offerings, unless 
the people had faith in their worship ? We have every reas- 
on to believe that such people, without the knowledge of 
Christ, had a knowledge of the one God and Savior of all. 
They having not the law, were a law unto themselves, their 
consciences bearing witness unto the truth. Where there is 
a heart to pray according to the light given, there is there a 
God to bless. Rome grew, spreading her branches into 
every land ; scattering literature, arts and science into the 


198 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

darkness of heathendom ; opening the channels of commu- 
nication by inculcating an harmonious and universal lang- 
uage ; and crowning all with a jurisprudence the growth 
of centuries, and the wonder of the then known world. Her 
noble minds are to be the vehicles of higher truths; her 
philosophy is to be given to the nations as the outward garb 
of righteousness, — even to distant Britain which, in the ages 
to come, was to develope a nobler freedom, and an intenser 
light for those sitting in darkness, and in the valley of the 
shadow of death. Carthage, with all her prayers and sacri- 
fices, was to cease to be remembered : her cruel laws, her 
heartless oligarchy, her inhuman butchery, her stunted lit- 
erature, her lack of an appreciative moral-sense, were all to 
pass away. 

“ France impelled forward by monk and friar, is not to 
rule the western world, but England is to enter in, and take 
possession. Her strong sense of justice, her love of princi- 
ple, her sense of duty, her spirit of freedom, are .marked 
qualities of the nation that God destined to be the educator 
of the world. The world writhes under the heels of Bona- 
parte, and liberty’s blood sends up its cry from the ground 
of oppression. God hears the cry ; and Waterloo rescues 
humanity from the spirit of tyranny. Thousands of faithful 
prayers from cottage and temple had ascended for the suc- 
cess of the great general ; but God winked at them : free- 
dom must extend her sway, and the truth must be preached, 
and the chariot of the true Christ move triumphantly on. 
France, powerful as she is, and pray as she does, in 1815, is 
not permitted to sway the nations. 

“ Mary is very ardent, zealous and prayerful for the 
Roman cause ; and bishops and priests, then as now, invoke 
the blessing of the Almighty upon her endeavor to extirpate 
the great schism and heresy. The machinery of the church — 
the sword, the pike and the faggot, are on hand in abund- 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 199 

ance, to add force to the prayers of the priests ; but the 
blood of Latimer and Ridley is stronger than the papacy, 
and cries to God for vengeance from the Smithfield fires. 
This small but worthy sacrifice for truth and freedom was 
accepted ; and Latimer and Ridley lit a candle in England 
that never can be put out. The blood of martyrs is the seed 
of truth. That seed has taken deep root with us. The pray, 
ers of the Bloody Queen, though fervent and faithful, 
availed not. She died, and the power of Romanism, in 
England, died with her. 

“ (II) : A faithful mother bends over the fever-lit eyes of 
her dying son. It is her only boy, and her heart yearns 
over him. Already over the grave of her husband, whom 
she loved so dearly, is the grass growing green. How can 
this widowed heart give up her only support ? Must the 
angel of death reap on such a blighted ground ? Must the 
heart lose its last object of love, the eye its lustre, and the 
breast .its hope ? ‘ Take this bitter cup from me, O my 

Father,’ she cries ; ‘oh, spare my boy, my only boy, that 
the springs of my life may not be altogether dried up ! ’ 
Few prayers so fervent as this of the lonely and broken- 
hearted mother ; but, alas ! it availeth not. Her boy was 
laid in the cold, cold grave, by the side of her husband ; and 
she is alone in the world, a miserable object of charity. 
Perhaps the son was taken from the evil to come. The tree 
had borne but little fruit ; but had it been left in the garden, 
it might have become worm-eaten, and, thus cumbering the 
ground, been cut down, and cast into the fire. 

“ In a paternal mansion a happy gathering is seen. Faces 
are flushed with pride, spirits jubilant with joy ; for another 
unit is to be added to the nation, a new family circle formed, 
a new centre of pleasure created. No heart-thrust can be 
received from the world, that may not now be healed by 
loving hands at home ; for the twain shall be no longer two 


200 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


but one. No tears can flow, which may not now be wiped 
away ; no woe endured, which is not gladly shared. Even 
here, into this union of hearts, does death make an entrance, 
and rive the bonds asunder. Without apparent aggravation 
or cause, the chariot and horsemen have taken the spirit of 
the fair one to the skies, leaving the bereaved to wither and 
die. What grief such soul endures ! -What woe now fills 
his breast ! Can it be a pleasure to God, thus to afflict his 
children ? It can not be. Our sky may never again be 
clear, the heart no more may feel its bliss ; but with arid 
sands beneath, and a brazen sky above, we may be sure He 
doeth all things well. Our life, if lonely, is short ; if the 
burden be heavy, we may lay it down to-morrow. Besides^ 
our loss is our friend’s infinite gain : the fever no more shall 
parch the lips, nor dethrone the mind ; harrowing pain no 
more shall rack the body, nor disturb the soul’s tranquility ; 
no more temptation, nor bitter tears of repentance; the con- 
flict with death is over, the eternal shore is gained. 

“ The apostles prayed, and their brethren through all 
ages have followed their example ; yet thousands of those 
prayers have never been answered. The wise father on earth 
will refuse the petition of his child, if detrimental to the 
family’s interests; so will our heavenly Father refuse to hear 
our prayers, if they be opposed to the well-being of his other 
children. 

“(Ill): The great apostle of the Gentiles prayed three 
times that the thorn in his flesh might be removed ; but 
God’s ears were deaf to his cries. That his prayers should 
be granted, was very desirable to Paul ; for whatever the 
thorn in his flesh may have been, it seemed a great impedi- 
ment to his popularity as a preacher, and to his success as a 
master-builder in the great temple of God. But, in after 
years, Paul confessed it was good for him that God had 
been averse to his prayers. How many of us plead with 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


201 


God for things which unmask our selfishness ! How few 
resign self into the hands of our heavenly Father ! He puts 
us into the furnace to burn away the dross, and we endeavor 
to resist ; the adversary meets us on our way in our un- 
righteous ambition, and after a contest generally succeeds in 
driving us back into the valley of humility ; but sometimes 
we parry so long with the sword of Jehovah that He sheathes 
it, allowing us to pass madly on in the road of pleasure, un- 
til we fall headlong into the gulf of ruin. Better for such 
had he died in his infancy, before the ‘ silver cord was 
loosed, or the pitcher broken at the fountain, or the wheel 
broken at the cistern, or the grasshopper became a burden, 
or his desire failed.’ 

“ Job prays that God may forget the day of his birth, and 
that the people curse the night wherein he was born. He 
prayed for death as for hidden treasure, yet it came not. 
Day and night he complains of the heavy hand of God ; 
still the Lord continues to visit him with affliction, until Job 
saw it was in love that God had smitten him. Few pray as this 
man prayed, yet the Lord refused to grant his wish. 

“Far off in eastern lands, where every stream and 
river is a memorial of past greatness, where every zephyr 
falls on our ear as a requiem for the dead, I see an aged man 
toiling up a mountain side. For six-score years he has 
braved the sea of life, which has brought him every phase 
of human activity. The royal palace and the hovel have alike 
been his home ; the court and the desert are alike familiar 
to him ; he has been the greatest of legislators as well as 
the humblest of shepherds. But now, full of days, weary, 
wounded and worn, with his white locks falling upon his 
shoulders, leaning on his staff, he gazes into the distance, and 
beholds the object of his yearning spread out before his 
longing eyes, — the Promised Land, where his heart longs to 
beat, and his head to rest ; but God will not listen to his 


202 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


cry. Here on lonely Nebo, without a friend to wipe the 
death-sweat from his brow, or pillow his fainting head ; 
here on the threshold of his home must he fall down, and 
give up the ghost. Ah! it was a thorn in the flesh of Moses 
to be left for the birds of prey. I can see his face, in a halo 
of glory, turned pitifully to God , but Jehovah says: * Thou 
shalt not go over thither.' He is dead ; but did the birds of 
the air feed on his flesh ? Oh ! what a burial ! what a se- 
pulchre ! what a funeral service ! God was his priest, and 
cherubim and seraphim took care of the dead. 

“Away yonder in lonely Gethsemene a sorrowful man 
is seen crushed with care and anxiety. He hath not where 
to lay his head; he is despised, and rejected of men. He 
foresees the pricks of the spear, the wagging heads, the 
mocking multitude; he feels already the burning thirst, and 
the pains of death. With such a bitter cup to his lips, he 
cries: ‘ Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me; 
nevertheless, not what I will, but what thou wilt.’ The 
desire of his great human heart is not granted; the Father’s 
will is done; the cup is quaffed, and Christ the Savior dies; 
but though he died, he lives, and lives forevermore, our 
exemplar, our master, and our guide. 

“ We have seen that prayers, however fervent, are fre- 
quently never answered; we, too, must therefore expect such 
disappointment. But to have the will of the Father done in 
us, is to have the best done for us. ‘ Not what I will, but 
what thou wilt,’ was the submissive cry of Christ, and should 
be that of us. 

“ Whatever ye ask in prayer, it shall be given you, pro- 
vided it be agreeable to God’s will. Pray, and pray with 
your might; but do not seek to turn the heavenly adversary 
aside from guarding your way. Whether your prayer be 
answered or not, never cease to believe that God doeth all 
things well.” 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 203 

I well remember how full my mind was, at this time, of 
doubts and fears. I had but little faith in the genuineness 
of the so-called books of Moses, and still less in the histor- 
ical character of such incidents narrated in them as are 
given in the text. I did not believe that Balaam, or any 
other person, was ever met by an angel of Jehovah; nor did 
I believe, as many commentators pretend to do, that this 
angel of Jehovah was the Lord Jesus Christ. Such inter- 
pretation seemed to me to do violence to the plain meaning 
of the words. I asked myself, who wrote these words? and 
I was forced to acknowledge that nobody knew. Even if I 
assumed Moses to be their author, still I could not believe 
in their literal truth; for it was more agreeable to reason 
that the author of these words, through ignorance, should 
have been deceived, or that he wrote, or translated what was 
mere legend or tradition (things which daily occur all over 
the world) than that the events narrated in the text should 
be real (things we have never known to occur nor any one 
else in whom we can place entire reliance). I knew well 
that my disbelief had been, and was, shared by the most 
eminent scholars of every land; and such disbelief seemed 
to me agreeable to universal reason. Instead of regarding 
the acceptation of a doctrine, merely on the ground that it 
was a dogma of the church, as a sign of a noble and pious 
mind; I regarded such acceptation, if the doctrine was notap- 
proved by independent and philosophical investigation, as the 
sigh of an ignoble and impious one: fori held then, as now, 
that the first and highest duty of man, is to obey the injunc- 
tions of the reason; for fallible as it is, it is certainly our 
only guide. 

Speaking to-day of the Pentateuch, Prof. Carl Hein- 
rich, orthodox theologian of the university at Konigsburg, 
says: 

“ Not before the exodus from Egypt can we speak in a 


204 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


strict sense of a history of the people of Israel. All that 
lies before this point of time, may be characterized as pre- 
historic. Even if we regard Moses as the author of the five 
books which bear his name, yet concerning this remote 
epoch, separated from its own by a series of centuries, Moses 
himself would have had to resort to oral tradition. It was 
impossible for him to report these things as eye-witness. 
But it is now generally conceded that Moses can not possi- 
bly be the author of the books named after him. These 
books originated from the comprehensive digestion of a 
whole series of independent written sources, of which the 
oldest can not be older than King Solomon, nor yet much 
later, and written consequently between 900 and 850. Any 
comprehensive and coherent work earlier than 900 can not 
be proved. The memory of the past, accordingly, has been 
handed substantially down through the medium of oral tradi- 
tion. The material contents, the ingredients of these narra- 
tions, must be regarded from the point of view of popular tra- 
dition, or legend. It remains utterly impossible to state pre- 
cisely and positively of what the work of Moses really con- 
sisted; since, however unwelcome the truth may be, not even 
the ten commandments may be regarded as actually formu- 
lated by Moses. We have here only an inverted conclusion 
from effect to cause.” 

The words of this eminent scholar concerning Moses and 
the Pentateuch, convey clearly enough what I believed, at 
the time I composed the above sermon. It was a great pain 
for me to know, as I read the words of the text, that their 
literal import did not agree with my own belief, nor with 
that of the highest reason of the age. My views were daily 
broadening; I saw less and less of the miraculous; I was 
becoming more and more a child of nature, a child of science. 
Yet, in the text I saw a beautiful truth conveyed, as it were, 
in a fairy-tale. This truth I sought to apprehend; and as I 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


205 


believed I apprehended it, I declared it to the people over 
whom I had been set, not only to direct them in religious 
matters, but also to guide them into truth; for without the 
latter, the former becomes but baneful superstition. Truth 
may be possessed without religion; but religion can not be 
possessed without truth. In my study I was ever con- 
fronted with the growing contradictions between science and 
so-called religion; in my pulpit, with those between reason 
and dogma. Ministers and commentators I found bending 
the Old Testament to suit the requirements of the New; 
and having succeeded in this base work, bending the New to 
suit the exigencies of their respective creeds. Everywhere 
I cast my eyes, I beheld dogmas ready to break, and the 
ecclesiastics who were supported by them, patching them 
up. The inner-world, the reason, I saw at war with the 
outer- world, ecclesiastical dogma; and ecclesiastical dogmas, 
at war with one another. While the people of the parish 
were no better than others, no more honorable, dutiful, or 
charitable, I was still more troubled at knowing that the 
position I claimed, and the dogmas I asserted, could not be 
sustained with satisfactory credentials. The occurrences I 
asserted in the creed were stupendous; but the evidence 
upon which they were based, were puerile, absurd. I clearly 
saw that to ask a man to accept the creed on the usual inter- 
pretation, is no less unreasonable than to expect him to infer 
that a mountain has been in labor, to explain the existence 
of the progeny of a mouse. The more I looked for proof 
of the occurrences asserted in the creed, the further I found 
myself from the object of my search. Whatever I sought 
to solve by a supernatural explanation, I readily saw was 
much more reasonably solved by a natural one. In my mind 
I beheld Reason carrying a key with which she unlocked the 
doors that led by labyrinthian ways to the dark hiding-places 
of ecclesiastical dogmas. I saw her enter, and shed on their 


206 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


monstrous forms the blazing light of her own radiant coun- 
tenance effulgent with light divine. As she approached, 
they cried: “ What have we to do with thee? art thou come 
hither to torment us before the time ? ” and, crouching in 
their lairs, sought to conceal themselves in still deeper dark- 
ness; but at her look they were filled with consternation, and 
at her touch were paralyzed. One by one, by the might of 
her own arm, did she drag them forth, and decapitate them, 
hurling their lifeless forms into the outer-darkness of super- 
stition, where they first had received their life. There those 
many-headed giants lay, without the hope of a resurrec- 
tion. The priests of the world went in mourning; but Lib- 
erty and Truth clothed themselves in gorgeous apparel, 
singing: “Alleluia! for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.” 

With all this uncertainty and trembling, I yet hesitated 
to renounce my faith: I was unwilling to grieve my 
friends; I knew that, false as most of the dogmas were, 
I was yet accomplishing some good in the work I was 
doing; I desired to search more fully into the foundations 
of my faith, lest too sudden action might bring me repent- 
ance. 

In addition to this trouble of mind, I had other difficulties 
which I hardly knew how to adjust. There was a woman in 
the parish, accused of living in open adultery, and many 
members insisted that I should do what I could to remove 
her name from the list of parish communicants. After 
some time, and with great hesitation, I called on the ac- 
cused, and in a very kind manner mentioned the subject. 
Her answer was calm, almost dignified: “I am my own; 
and, being my own, will do as I like with myself. I do not 
admit the truth of the reports you have heard, nor will I 
deny them; but those who made it their business to give you 
the information, would have done better, had they minded 
their own business.. As to coming to the sacrament, I will 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 207 

do as I please in the matter. If I feel like coming, I will 
come, and you dare not prevent me; if I feel like remaining 
away, I will remain away; and that is all I have to say in 
answer to the reports you bring me.” In a few days from 
that time, I requested the bishop to act in the matter. He 
answered my letter, saying he would have nothing to do 
with the subject. Thus the whole responsibility was thrown 
on me; and I determined to have no more to do with it. 
The disturbances growing out of this trouble, led me at an 
early day to cast my burden down by resigning the rector- 
ship, to take effect the first of October, 1879. I n a few 
days after receiving my letter of resignation, the vestry 
sent me the following reply: 

“ To the Rev. Thomas Henry Truro Bray, Rector of St. 

Peter’s Church: 

“ Rev. and dear Sir: — We herewith transmit you a copy 
of the resolution of the vestry, adopted at their last meet- 
ing, accepting your resignation. 

“ Our action has been taken after careful consideration, 
wherein we have endeavored to keep in view the respective 
interests of the rector and the parish. We take pleasure in 
announcing that no differences have arisen between us 
in our official relations. We bear cheerful testimony to your 
ability as a scholar, and to the zeal shown by you in 
your work as a clergyman. We extend to you our kindest 
regards, and earnest wishes for future prosperity. On be- 
half of the vestry* 

“ We remain yours most respectfully, 

“ Theo. A. Gesetz (senior warden), 

“ Wm. S. Kleinman (secretary pro tern).” 

On Tuesday, October 7th, 1879, I was called to the rec- 
torship of Trinity Church, Prairietown. This was a very 
pleasant city, a little north of Churchton. We removed 


208 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


there immediately, that I might occupy the pulpit the fol- 
lowing Sunday; for nothing has ever been more disagreea- 
ble to me than idleness. 

In Trinity parish there were some very clever people, the 
senior warden especially being a most excellent man. Here, 
as in Lowton, there was no rectory; and vacant houses were 
so scarce that for the first few weeks we were compelled to 
take rooms, and to board. Finally we obtained a house at 
a rental of fifteen dollars a month. It contained only five 
rooms, and was in very poor order; but we were glad to get 
into it, even as it was. 

While here I was one day visited by the Rev. Mr. Megal- 
auchus of Churchton. I can never forget that day. He 
opened the door without knocking ; came right into the 
house ; saw me at my study, and said : 

“ Hello ! This is the Rev. Mr. Bray, I believe. I am Dean 
Megalauchus of Churchton. I thought I would run in to see 
you. I am on a fishing expedition, and as you are almost in 
my way, I thought it was a good time to make your acquaint- 
ance. Those delivering the faith once given to the saints, 
and living so near one another as we are, can benefit some- 
times by interchanging ideas.” 

“ I am very glad to know you, Mr. Megalauchus,” I re- 
plied ; “ I hope you will be able to make a short stay with 
me. Perhaps you can preach while here.” 

“Well, as to that, Mr. Bray, perhaps I can oblige you. 
At any rate, if I can’t preach for you, I think I might con- 
sent to give your people a lecture. If I should promise you 
a lecture, Mr. Bray, what would you like for a subject ? ” 

“ I presume, Mr. Megalauchus,” I answered, “ that you 
would prefer to choose your own subject. Most men have 
some subject on which they feel they are prepared to speak ; 
and certainly no one man can be expected to be prepared on 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


209 


all subjects. Choose that, sir, on which you are best pre- 
pared.” 

“You know, Mr. Bray, I’ve been all around the world. 
Just say what you would like me to speak on. I would as 
soon speak on one subject as another.” 

“ Very strange, Mr. Megalauchus,” I replied. “The sun 
goes all around the world every twenty-four hours, yet I 
would never think of inviting it to deliver a lecture. I do 
not think that merely going around the world, can prepare 
any man to deliver a lecture worthy to be heard. Among 
those who have been around the world most frequently, are 
found many most coarse, and most void of intellectual abil- 
ity. I hardly think that you would have approved my act, 
should I have invited the martyred Cook, to preach for me 
on St. Paul’s epistles to the Romans.” 

“ Well, it is not likely we can agree on all things, Mr. 
Bray, and, may be, we must disagree on this. Everybody 
has his own ideas about such things, and it is useless to try 
to change them. All I have to say is, name your subject, 
and let the rest go to me. It will be time enough to find 
fault, after I shall have failed to give you satisfaction.” 

“ Suppose, then, Mr. Megalauchus, that you deliver a lect- 
ure on science and religion. It is a subject in which I 
myself am very much interested, and on which I should be 
glad to receive any information that you may possess.” 

“ Splendid, Mr. Bray ! You have hit the nail on the head. 
Nothing could be more suitable to me, and the times are 
ripe for it. You mean for me to speak on the so-called dis- 
agreements between science and religion, do you not ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Infidelity is rampant in this city. Most of the 
influential men are unbelievers in the dogmas of Christianity. 
Few of them go to church at all, and those who go, go more 
for the sake of social relations than for any belief in the four 
Evangelists. If you can do anything toward healing this 


210 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


sore, I am sure you will assist greatly in spreading the faith 
of which you have just now spoken.” 

“All right, Mr. Bray. You will see that the lecture is 
well advertised. If there is one thing I hate in this 
world, it is speaking to a half-empty house. I would like for 
you to get it in the papers of the city as well as speak to your 
congregation about it. On what day of the week shall I de- 
liver the lecture ? ” 

“ Thursday evening would be a good time, Mr. Megal- 
auchus. I believe no other evening is as good.” 

“ All right, Mr. Bray ; I’ll be on hand Thursday evening ; 
and I promise you a good time. I think I can show your 
people that the word of God remains true, though every man 
be a liar. Remember Thursday evening.” 

Agreeable to our understanding, I had an item inserted 
in the newspapers that the Rev. Mr. Megalauchus of Church- 
ton would deliver a lecture at the Episcopal church, the fol- 
lowing Thursday evening, on Science and Religion. I also 
spoke of the matter in my visits. 

It was about six o’clock on Thursday evening. All 
preparations had been made, and I was momentarily expect- 
ing Mr Megalauchus. An hour passed, and yet he was not 
come. I began to feel apprehensive lest he should be one 
of the many clergymen I had known, who thought so lightly 
of their word. When the hour arrived at which I should go 
to the church, I went, taking with me one of my old lectures, 
thinking that, if Mr. Megalauchus should fail to appear, I 
would deliver it instead. The lecture I took was entitled, 
“ The Earth Past and Future.” The reverend gentleman did 
not come, and I entertained the audience, as best I could, 
with my own lecture. I felt ashamed that the people of the 
city should be thus treated by a clergyman of the church. 

In a day or two I addressed Mr. Megalauchus a letter 
demanding an explanation of his conduct. It was answered 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


2 1 1 


in due time. “I was so busy,” he said, “ with the dear little 
fishes that I could not bring myself to forsake them. They 
came to me in such numbers that I might have fed the mul- 
titude in the wilderness. So attentive to me were they, in all 
my wants, that I felt it would be disrespectful in me to leave 
them. Under such circumstances I am sure any one would 
excuse me. Give my excuse to the people, and tell them I 
will come again some time, and redeem my promise.” 

I replied : “ Although too much pride is an evil, yet I be- 
lieve every one should think more of himself than of ‘ the 
little fishes.’ I do not think it an honor to you, sir, that you 
think more of fishing than of keeping your word inviolate. 
In the future, believe me, I will endeavor not to disappoint 
my people with the promise of a man able to lecture on any- 
thing, and who has been all around the world simply to learn 
that his word is of less value than a few little fishes.” 

Mr. Megalauchus made no reply ; nor have I seen him 
since. 

At another time I was visited by a minister who said he 
had great need of ten dollars, to pay his passage to a distant 
town. I had but little money ; but his pleadings were so 
pitiable, especially to a nature so ill adapted to withstanding 
the pleadings of misery as mine is, that, even against the 
advice of my wife, I loaned him the money, on his promising 
to return it within five days. “ Here, sir,’’ I said, “ are the 
ten dollars. I can ill afford to part with the money at this 
time ; but on your promise to return it within five days, I 
let you have it.” 

“ As sure as there is a God in heaven, Mr. Bray,” he 
said, “ I will return you the money by that time.” 

“ I will give you ten days, sir,” I said ; “and, mind you, 
if the money is not in my hands by that time, I will ever re- 
member you as a liar, and as illegitimate born.” 

“ I am quite willing for you to do so, Mr. Bray,” he said; 


212 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ but there will be no danger about your getting the money. 
The minister who would receive such kindness from another, 
and fail to return it, is not worthy to stand in the pulpit. 
Believe me, you have no cause to fear.” 

From that day to this I have never seen the minister, nor 
have I ever received the money. I could give many other 
such instances of the lack of honor, and true manliness in 
many a clergyman ; but let what I have said suffice ; for 
with the tares there is some good wheat in the ministerial 
ranks. 

After delivering a sermon one Sunday, on a rather pro- 
found subject, a gentleman remarked : “ Mr. Bray, I notice 

in your sermons you frequently say, If Christ be God ; If 
eternal punishment be true ; If we live after death ; If Jesus 
Christ was immaculately born. I supposed these matters 
were not open to question ; therefore I can not see that you 
have any right to use ‘ ifs,’ when you speak of them.” 

I replied : “ I am glad indeed, in a certain sense, that 

you are so well satisfied ; but I am equally glad that the de- 
claration of the church, being such an interested party, is 
not sufficient to prevent my mind from thinking, or force on 
me the belief that there is no longer any room for further 
inquiry. Concerning the deity of Christ, it is not sufficient 
that the apostles assert it, or that even Christ himself de- 
clared it. Have I not the right to demand proof as to the 
ability of the apostles, to determine the grave questions at 
issue ? Have I not the right to demand the production of 
the evidence upon which they base their judgment? May I 
not demand that the evidence produced shall be such as 
would force from me to-day the acknowledgment of the deity 
of a person who, living amongst us, might be said to perform 
similar miracles ? ” 

The gentleman answered, “ I suppose such demands would 
be just and fair.” 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


213 


“ Not only, I replied, “ would they be, as you say, just 
and fair ; but it would be my duty to make such demands. 
If we examine, in a critical spirit, the statements made in 
the Gospels, the halo of glory which is now superstitiously 
shed about them, soon disappears. In the first place, there 
are the authors of the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and 
Luke. To the author or words of the fourth gospel, it is 
useless to refer, since both the author and his words are 
subjects of too much uncertainty and speculation. What 
shall we say of the three who remain to testify to the life 
and words of Christ ? I answer, we can say nothing; for of 
their persons and lives we have no really satisfactory and 
authentic information. From tradition and the little we find 
in the New Testament itself concerning them, it is generally 
inferred that they were ignorant men, and, therefore, we 
say, totally unfit to discriminate between the miraculous and 
the natural. When I ask for proof of it, I can not find that 
the apostles had sufficient ability to determine the questions 
at issue. Indeed, in the early ages it was a much disputed 
question, whether the apostles could even write ; and to-day 
the question is far from settled. In the second place, if I 
ask for the production of the evidence upon which the 
apostles base their opinions, what do we find ? Why, I am 
presented with a few documents disagreeing in many ma- 
terial points, and whose authors are either wholly unknown, 
or subjects of contradictory judgments. Let us examine 
more closely. Even if we admit that the author of our 
present Gospel of St. Matthew, was the same person as the 
Matthew who is said to have been the apostle of Christ, still 
it does not help us much ; for Papias distinctly says that 
this Matthew ‘ put together the oracles of the Lord in the 
Hebrew language, and each one interpreted it as best he 
could.’ Of this original work of St. Matthew we know ab- 
solutely nothing ; and it does not increase our confidence in 


214 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


the copy we possess, to be told bv Papias that each one 
translated the original as best he could. The greatest writers 
of the world acknowledge that our Matthew is not the orig- 
inal Matthew. If, then, I demand the genuine work of St. 
Matthew, I am offered instead, according to some, only a 
translation whose accuracy I must question, because of the 
suspicion cast, by the words of Papias, upon the author’s 
ability ; and, according to others, only a compilation made 
from other writings, the chief of which was probably the 
original Gospel of St. Mark. Stating it more briefly : of the 
writer of the original St. Matthew we have no definite and 
satisfactory information ; we do not possess the original, nor 
know of any one that ever did ; the Gospel of St. Matthew 
which we possess, is not the original St. Matthew, but at 
best only a translation made by some unknown person whose 
ability to perform such labor must be questioned, since he 
did it only ‘ as best he could ’ ; or, lastly and probably, it 
may be the compilation of an unknown author, based chiefly 
upon the original Gospel of St. Mark. I ask any candid and 
unprejudiced mind, is there no room for doubt about the 
statements made in such a gospel. Such a question admits of 
but one answer. When we come to the Gospel of St. Mark, 
we find no better satisfaction. Of the person and life of St. 
Mark we know nothing, or worse than nothing, except the 
little we gather from the New Testament ; on the latter we 
can place, in our judgment, but little reliance, as well be- 
cause it is a witness testifying in its own behalf, as of the 
unsatisfactory character of what is there said. If I ask, 
therefore, for proof of the ability of St. Mark to determine 
the questions at issue, it is impossible for me to get it. It is 
generally conceded by the most impartial and prominent 
critics, that our Gospel of St. Mark is not the original Gospel 
of St. Mark ; but, first, an emended copy made either by an 
unknown person or the author of the original ; or, secondly, 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


2I 5 


that it is the result of not less than two, and probably many, 
revisions, the first of which may, or may not, have been 
made by the original author, and the second, or subsequent 
ones, by some person or persons unknown, who, at the time 
of their revision, made many additions to the original work. 
And, now, if we ask did St. Mark witness the occurrences he 
describes, we have to answer, he did not ; for we are told by 
Papias, who of all was most likely to know, that St. Mark 
never saw the Lord, nor heard him speak ; but that, becom- 
ing a disciple and interpreter of St. Peter, he wrote his 
gospel from what he remembered of St. Peter’s teaching : 

'Outs yap tjxolkts tou xupiou outs TzaprjxoXouOrjGz auzio. Mapxos 
pevi pprj vsorrjS IJszpou yevopevos 6aa epvrjpoveuae axptftws eypa<pev\ 

“ In St Mark, therefore, we have no eye-witness to the 
occurrences he relates. The original gospel of St. Mark 
was simply a memorabilia of the teachings of St. Peter, 
penned by Mark, his disciple and interpreter, after St. 
Peter’s death. If then I demand written proof of the 
occurrences which St. Mark relates, I am offered at best the 
written testimony of one who never witnessed the occur 
rences he describes; while in all probability I am offered 
not even this much, but, according to some, a document 
supposed to be an emended copy made by the original an - 
thor; or, according to others, a document which has passed 
through several revisions, and received many alterations. I 
ask, can any candid and unprejudiced mind receive without 
question the statements made in such documents ? Is there 
no room for doubt about the assertions made in such a gos- 
pel ? Such a question admits of but one answer — and that 
answer I would give, though all the earth should give a con- 
trary one— truth and reason demand it. 

“ And now we come to the consideration of the last of 
the synoptic gospels, the Gospel according to St. Luke. 
The author of this gospel is supposed to have been a com- 


21 6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


panion of St. Paul. By some he is said to have been a phy- 
sician, by some a painter, by others both. He was probably 
a native of Antioch and a Gentile Christian. But what we 
know of St. Luke, may be sufficiently inferred from the 
words of Prof. Reuss : ‘ Such a work was undertaken by a 

man who was strongly drawn to it by his interest in the mat- 
ter, and who, by his connection with the apostles, or at least 
their immediate pupils, was probably placed in a condition to 
accomplish his task as well as it could be done in his time. 
This was the unknown author of our Third Gospel.’ Here 
we find St. Luke called by this learned critic the ‘unknown 
author ’ ; and this title, as far as we know, justly describes 
him. So then, if I ask for definite and satisfactory proof 
that St. Luke had the ability to determine the questions at 
issue, I am unable to get it; yet he was probably the most 
scholarly of all the apostles. 

‘Further, it is admitted by all that St. Luke was not an 
apostle, that he was not an eye-witness to the occurrences 
he relates; and it is quite generally admitted that his gospel 
is a critical work based upon various written documents, the 
chief of which was probably the original Gospel of St. 
Mark. I ask any candid and unprejudiced mind, is there 
no room for doubt about the statements made in such a 
gospel ? Such a question admits of but one answer. There 
is one thing, however, that can not be answered without 
casting obloquy on the ministerial profession, — that ‘is, why 
can ministers who profess to lead the world into truth, dare 
refer to these documents as infallible and inspired writings ? 
In conclusion, let me ask you to read this from the great 
and truth-loving Mill, which I think a lucid and just state- 
ment of the whole subject; and, while you read, think: 

“‘To all these considerations ought to be added the 
extremely imperfect nature of the testimony itself. Take 
it at best, it is the uncross-examined testimony of ex- 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


217 


tremely ignorant people ; credulous as such usually are ; 
unaccustomed to draw the line between the perceptions of 
sense, and what is superinduced upon them by the sugges- 
tions of a lively imagination; unversed in the difficult art of 
deciding between appearances and reality, and between the 
natural and the supernatural ; in times, moreover, when no 
one thought it worth while to contradict any alleged miracle 
because it was the belief of the age that miracles in them- 
selves proved nothing, since they could be worked by a 
lying spirit as well as by the spirit of God. Such were the 
witnesses; and even of them we do not possess the direct tes- 
timony; the documents, of date long subsequent, even on the 
orthodox theory, which contains the only history of these 
events, very often do not even name the supposed eye-wit- 
nesses. . . (The evidence is) not of a character to warrant 
belief in any facts in the smallest degree unusual or improb- 
able ; the eye-witnesses in most cases unknown, in none 
competent by character or education to scrutinize the real 
nature of the appearances which they may have seen, and 
moved moreover by a union of the strongest motives which 
can inspire human beings to persuade, first themselves, and 
then others, that what they had seen was a miracle. The 
facts, too, even if faithfully reported, are never incompatible 
with the supposition that they were either mere coincidences, 
or were produced by natural means ; even when no specific 
conjecture can be made as to those means, which in general 
it can. . . I can not attach any evidentiary value to the 

testimony even of Christ on such a subject, since he is 
never said to have declared any evidence of his mission, 
except internal conviction ; and everybody knows that in 
prescientific times men always supposed that any unusual 
faculties which came to them they knew not how, were an 
inspiration from God ; the best men always being the read- 
iest to ascribe any honorable peculiarity in themselves to 


2l8 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


that higher source, rather than to their own merits.’ ” (Es- 
says on Revelation). 

“ Don’t you think, sir, I have good grounds for the use 
of 1 ifs ’ in my sermons ? ” 

“ Well, I should say you had,” he answered ; “ but it is 
a great surprise to me. If the people of the churches were 
to read much like you have given me this evening, the min- 
isters would soon make louder complaint about the small- 
ness of their audiences. I think it is a shame to keep us in 
such ignorance of the real truth ; for it is better to know 
the truth about it, than it is to found our hopes upon things 
that won’t stand investigation.” 

Thus saying the gentleman departed, and I was alone 
with my thoughts. My heart beat silently but rapidly : my 
very soul was in a tempest ; but I was powerless to say to 
it, “ peace be still.” I was afraid that I had done my friend 
more evil than good by disturbing his sense of security, 
however much deceived he may have been ; yet I could not 
be false to my own convictions, nor give him false ideas 
concerning my own belief. 

That the disciples of Christ declared, and believed in, his 
divinity, I saw no reasonable grounds to doubt ; but I also 
knew that many other individuals had been declared divine 
by men far superior in ability and judgment to the apostles 
of Christ, and, yet, that no one to-day thinks for a moment 
of accepting their testimony as proving the divine nature of 
such individuals. Homer, Hesiod, Plato, Socrates, and 
many others, assert that certain men were divinely begotten; 
but great as these writers were, we can but smile at their 
words. They assert that certain individuals were sons of 
God: 

“ Otffd 1 ouv Ttves toutwv ayadoi ftaathcs 7]<rav' Mivtos re xat 
PadapavOus , oc dcos xac EupwrirjS 7 r aides, ojv old' ecacv 61 vo/iot. 
, . . . ou yap eaO' 6 ri toutou aae^earepov earr; oud c 6 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


219 


ti xprj paXXov euXa,3ziffdai f 7 vXrjv zis tous Ozous xai Xoyip xai 
epyto z^apapzavziv, dzuzzpov d'ets tous dzious avOpamous 

That as divinely begotten beings, some of them were 
specially instructed by God himself : 

“ Azyzi yap tov Mivcov auyyiyvzOai zvazip ztzi T(p Ait zv Xoyois 
xai (poirav naidzudrjGopzvov ws utzo ao<pi<jTou ovtos too Aios . . . 
To yap A cos ovra xai da povov uizo Aios TzzxaidzuaOai oux z'/zi 
bxzpftoXrjv zxaivou” 

That as divinely begotten beings, they are made judges 
after they depart this life : 

“ Kat tous pzv zx TYjS Aaias ' PadapavOus xpivzi , tous <5’ zx tt)S 
EupwTzrjS Aiaxos' Mivip dz npzafizia dioaa) emdiaxpivztv , zav 
axopirjTov ti to) izzpa ) y W <vs drxaioTaTTj ' y xpiais rj 7 zzpi ttjs 
xopzias tois avdpcoxoisT 

That as divinely begotten beings, sacrifices are due 
them : 

“ & xpiTUiv, Tip AaxXfjTZKp o<pziXopzv aXzxzpuovTa. aXP 

anodoTZ xai py apzXyarjTz.” 

(Plato : Minos xii, xiii; Georgias lxxix; Phaedo lxvi.) 

“ Thou shouldst therefore know that some of these men 
were good kings, as, for instance, Minos and Rhadaman- 
thus who were sons of God, begotten by Europa, and who 
were the authors of the laws ; for, except it be to sin against 
God, nothing is more base, or more to be guarded against, 
than this, — to sin in word or deed against divinely begotten 
men.” 

“ He affirms that Minos passed nine years in discourse 
with God ; that he was accustomed to visit God for the 
purpose of receiving instructions from him as if God were 
a wise philosopher.” 

“ The fact that he was the only son of God to receive 
personal instructions from God himself, confers the highest 
honors on Minos.” 

“Those coming from Asia, Rhadamanthus judges ; those 


220 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


from Europe, Aeacus. To Minos, because of his dignity, I 
will assign the position of counsellor, whenever the other 
two are at a loss what to do, in order that the judgment 
concerning the destiny of man, may be as righteous as 
possible.” 

“ Crito, he said, we owe a cock to Aescalapius. Sacrifice 
it, and forget it not.” 

Reading these lines, I could not fail to see that other 
persons, besides Jesus Christ, have been called sons of God, 
and said to have been instructed by God himself ; that as 
Christ is, so they have been, held to have the power of 
judgment in the other world, and to be proper objects of 
prayer and sacrifice. So fully did the great and pure- 
minded Socrates seem to believe in the divine nature of 
such beings, that, as his dying injunction, he commanded 
Crito to offer in sacrifice to Aescalapius the cock he had 
vowed. But notwithstanding the greatness and wisdom of 
such writers, the reading of these words evokes only a laugh 
to-day, and rightly so. It seemed to me that a supernatural 
act could be proved only by supernatural evidence ; and as 
all indirect or written evidence must, in the very nature of 
things, be natural, and the deity of a being could not be 
established except by supernatural acts, it seemed to me 
that the deity of Christ could not be proved by any such 
evidence as we possess ; that, therefore, the only way to 
prove his deity, is that each person have such direct and 
positive evidence, as no man could refuse to accept. For 
my own part, I must confess, I have never received such 
evidence, I have never witnessed a miracle ; therefore I 
could not possibly say that I was satisfied with the evidence 
I had of Christ’s divinity ; but I wished, as his disciple, to 
make myself and others more worthy of being called the 
children of God. 

Only those who are by nature sincere, and who fill a 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


221 


position which they fear may be false, can imagine what I 
used to suffer in those days. I was uncertain what I should 
do. I loved the blessed name of Jesus, and would not, 
knowingly, fail to give him all the honor due his most beau- 
tiful life; but, on the other hand, to believe in a person, in 
human shape, as being the infinite God, when I was satisfied 
that his deity had never been proved, but at best remained 
only a bare possibility, seemed to me a most dangerous 
thing, and to border on idolatry and blasphemy. 

In such grave doubts, I was never forgetful to ask help 
from Him who I believed is conscious of all his children’s 
trouble, and ready and able to help them. Indeed, my very 
breath was but a prayer that my steps might be ordered 
aright. Hundreds of times have I, in the dead of night, 
when my loving and beautiful Mabel would be sound asleep, 
reached out my hands for God, as it were, to take them, 
saying in my mind, “ Take my hand, dear Father, and lead 
me in the path I should go in. Oh, let me never stray from 
Thee. Oh, my God, be Thou my friend and savior. Give 
me wisdom to understand, and courage to do, the right. 
Thou wert the God of my father. He trusted in Thee, and 
Thou didst not forsake him. So let me see thy face and 
live. Take not thy Spirit from me, lest seeing not thy face, 
I die. Thou knowest my mental troubles and deep anxie- 
ties. Come near me, I pray Thee. Inspire my soul with a 
sense and love of the truth. Heal my wounded heart; bind 
up my broken spirit; encourage m) 7 desponding soul. Hear 
me, my Father, for I am in great distress. The road I tread 
is dark. Let the light of thy countenance fall upon it, as a 
lantern to my uncertain feet. Guide me, Lord, for I am 
thine; oh, guide me for thy dear name’s sake.” Thus I 
lived, tossed about on the seas of doubt and distress, but, I 
believe, at all times ready to lay my life down for the truth, 
if only satisfactory proof were given me that I possessed it. 


222 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


My faith in the Scriptures as a sacred revelation from 
God, was fast leaving me. I had read the Old Testament 
through nearly three times in the original Hebrew language; 
and the more perfectly I was acquainted with it, the less I 
thought of it. I could not be blind to the immorality con- 
tained in its pages, to its many contradictions, to the wicked 
and most infamous conduct of not a few of those who are 
said to have been men after God’s own heart, to the fact 
that it ascribes to God motives such as no good man could 
have, and actions such as no good man would or could be 
guilty of doing, nor to its childish and false notions con- 
cerning the origin and working of the great cosmos of God. 

All that I have here said of my ideas concerning the Old 
Testament, is true, to a less extent, in regard to the New. 
It seemed to me that the bible as a whole could not possi- 
bly be the work of men whose minds and pens were guided 
by God: if so, then we must not only be made after God’s 
own image, but God must be in our image — mutable, irrita- 
ble, malevolent, envious, jealous, given to having favorites, 
imperfect in wisdom, subject to improvement and repent- 
ance, — in short, the god of the bible is but an enlarged 
man. Knowing these things, I could not believe in the lit- 
eral inspiration of the Scriptures; yet I could see no reason 
for doubting that not a little of the bible is true for all 
people and times, and therefore to be believed. This is the 
truth I sought to find, and, having found it, to set it forth 
in all my preaching, earnestly and without fear. 

March ioth, 1880, I went to the residence of a Mr. Le- 
Craig for the purpose of uniting his daughter Jennie in mar- 
riage to a Mr. Luke. She was a very clever, good-looking 
girl, and belonged to what was called the woman’s rights’ 
party. A little before the time for the service, had arrived, 
a servant came, asking if I would kindly oblige Miss Jennie 
by coming to her private room a moment. I followed the 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


223 


servant, and in a moment found myself standing in the 
presence of the young girl dressed beautifully in her bridal 
robes. 

“ I am sure,” she said “you will excuse me for sending 
for you. But I want to ask, if you can’t leave out those 
words which require me to promise obedience to my hus- 
band. I think it is such nonsense; and everybody knows 
that, even when said, they mean nothing. No girl of com- 
mon-sense would make such promise. Why not ask the 
man to obey the woman ? ” 

“I myself might be willing to oblige you, Miss Jennie, 
had I the liberty of doing so; but I am powerless. The 
Episcopal Church has a prescribed form for the marriage 
service. I am a minister of that church, and it would be 
very improper in me to depart from her ritual. I must, 
therefore, insist on using the sentence just as I find it. It 
is not as bad as you think. You, no doubt, love the young 
man whose wife you wish to be, and have confidence in him; 
if so, it seems to me, you should be perfectly willing to 
promise him obedience. On board of a ship there can not 
be two heads; so in a household there can not be two supreme 
authorities. Of course, the husband and wife should be 
joint rulers in general; but where differences of opinion 
occur, I can not see but that it is a safe rule for the wife to 
understand that she should yield to her husband. Such 
times rarely occur with those who are perfectly mated; but 
since their occurrence is at any time possible, it is good to 
have a recognized rule' to go by. There might be cases 
where the husband would yield to the wife, and every one 
knows he does so frequently; and there may be men who 
would do well generally to obey their wives, — men who are 
not only unworthy to rule, but also to be husbands; but we 
hope your intended is not one of this class. Seeing you 
have honored him above all his fellows by choosing him to 


224 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


be your husband, it follows that you must think him worthy 
of your confidence, and of being the head of your home, 
and, therefore, worthy of your obedience, should your judg- 
ments differ.” 

“ No,” she said, “ I will never promise obedience to the 
best man that lives. I knew the minister who had charge of 
this parish before you came. When he married my sister, 
he changed the service to oblige her ; and I think what he 
could do for my sister, you can do for me.” 

“ My dear young lady,” I replied, “ I would do any proper 
and possible thing to oblige you ; but I mean what I have 
said, I can not change the service.” 

“Well, then, I, too, mean what I have said ; and I can not 
change my word. If you can’t change the service, then I’ll 
change my purpose, and postpone my marriage, until I can 
find a minister, or somebody else, who will marry me without 
using the objectionable words I have referred to.” 

“All right, Miss,” I said. “ Having no further business 
here, I will leave, wishing you and your intended all pos- 
sible happiness.” 

I had gone only a few feet from the door, when she 
called to me, saying : “ I do think it is a shame ; but if it 
must be, I suppose it must be.” 

“ How do I understand you, Miss ?” I asked. “ Do you 
mean that you are willing to use those words which you said 
are so offensive to you ?” 

“ I don’t say I am willing ; but if I must, I must.” 

“But it will not do,” I replied, “ for you to say that you 
have been forced to use those words. A forced marriage is 
no marriage. The parties to a lawful marriage must give 
their free and full consent. If you say you are willing to 
use those words, and give your free consent to them, I am 
ready to perform the service ; but if you can not promise to 
use them freely, I must leave you once for all.” 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


225 


“ Well, rather than have a fuss about it, I will promise to 
say them of my own consent ; but I do think, Mr. Bray, you 
are too exacting.” 

Poor girl ! the postponement of her marriage was more 
than she could stand ; but when we came to that portion of 
the service where the woman is asked, if she will obey the 
man, her answer was inaudible. I therefore repeated the 
question with emphasis, looking steadily into her counte- 
nance ; and this time she clearly answered, “ I will.” 

June 18th, 1880, I attended the convention of the dio- 
cese, which was held at Churchton. Speaking of attending 
diocesan conventions, I will here relate an incident which 
one time occurred during the convention of a certain diocese 
of which I was then a member. Having some duties to per- 
form, as a member of the committee which was to meet in 
the evening, in a room of the bishop’s residence, I thought 
it would be a good opportunity to take there with me my 
friend, Dr. I. T. Coates of Philadelphia, that I might intro- 
duce him to the bishop. He willingly consented to go 
with me ; and it was a pleasure to introduce so able a phy- 
sician and polite a gentleman as Doctor Coates was well 
known to be. 

I was busy at work with the other members of the com- 
mittee ; the bishop was sitting in an easy chair, smoking a 
cigar ; and Doctor Coates was enjoying himself as best he 
could. When our work was nearly done, and we were think- 
ing of leaving, I was horrified at the bishop, who committed 
an act which in my childhood I was taught no gentleman 
would in public commit. We had no sooner left the house, 
than Doctor Coates exclaimed : “ Great God ! Is that your 
bishop ! By Jove ! he beats a cow-boy. That beats all I 
have ever heard, or conceived of, in my life. Solomon says 
there is nothing new under the sun, and he is supposed to 
have been a wise man ; but he little knew of the many 


15 


226 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


inventions of this wonderful age ; he never was introduced 
to the head of this diocese. Your bishop should have been 
sent to the Philadelphia exposition ; even now he would 
make a fine addition to Barnum’s museum, if the monkeys 
didn’t expel him. After this my faith in Evolution will be 
greatly increased ; for I swear no monkey living in the days 
of Solomon, could be guilty of committing such an act, and 
yet remain in simian society ; and if to-day it should com- 
mit it, his fellows would beat his brains out with a cocoanut 
shell.” 

“ My dear doctor,” I said, “ I am no less shocked than 
you. While I have never thought the bishop a very refined, 
or a very polite gentleman, I have had no cause for sup- 
posing he was insulting. It may be we should consider his 
act wholly unintentional.” 

“Nonsense, Mr. Bray ! You know otherwise. The like 
of that could not possibly occur accidentally.” 

“ Well, doctor, let that pass ; and in order to restore your 
usual equanimity, I will tell you something really worth hear- 
ing, of a ridiculous but not disgusting character.” 

“ If you have anything of that kind, Mr. Bray, let us have 
it. Perhaps I can laugh myself out of the rage I am in.” 

“One morning, when rector of St. Peter’s, Lowton, I 
heard a knock at the door. On opening it, I saw a cleri- 
cally dressed gentleman holding a valise in his hands. He 
appeared a stranger to me ; and I was struck with the wild, 
almost insane, look in his eyes.” 

“ ‘ Good morning, sir,’ he said. ‘ This is the Rev. Mr. 
Bray, I believe. I am the Rev. Mr. Insanitas. I am com- 
ing from the mountains. You must excuse the absence of 
my clerical tie. I had no time to make my toilet.’ 

“ ‘ Are you a minister of an Episcopal church there ? ’ I 
asked. 

“ ‘Yes, sir. Don’t you remember me, Mr. Bray? I am 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD 


227 


the Rev. Mr. Insanitas who was present at your ordination 
to the priesthood.’ 

“ ‘ Excuse me, Mr. Insanitas,’ I replied, ‘ I had forgotten 
your appearance ; however, I remember you now. Come in, 
sir, and take dinner with us. It is almost dinner hour.’ 

“ ‘ Now I am in your study, Mr. Bray,’ he said, ‘ perhaps 
you would like to know, why I am here. I will tell you. A 
few days ago I left the little cabin where I live by myself, 
and went out calling. About half-past three or four o’clock, 
I called on Mrs. So-and-so, who, as usual, received me very 
politely. Almost unconsciously the time passed away ; and 
the hour for tea having arrived, I was invited to take tea 
with her. As Mr. So-and-so was absent in the mountains, 
and would not return for some days, I thought it would be 
a favor to the lady, should I prolong my visit a little. So 
after tea we sat down, and talked about the affairs of the 
church until eight o’clock. I then felt a chill coming over 
me, and expressed my fears to the lady, saying I wished I 
could lie down a few minutes. She invited me to rest on the 
lounge, and gave me a shawl to cover myself with. I did so, 
and the rest and warmth seemed to help me. While thus 
resting, she told me it was nine o’clock, but that I had no 
need to hurry, unless I felt able to go. I told her I would 
leave in a few minutes. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep, 
and did not awake again before half-past ten, when, to my 
surprise, I discovered the lady had left the house. The next 
day it was rumored abroad in the village, that the Rev. In- 
sanitas had gone to the house of Mrs. So-and-so, in the ab- 
sence of her husband, and taken tea with her, and stayed 
until very late at night ; that when she desired him to leave, 
he didn’t take the hint ; that finally she went across the 
road, and asked a neighbor to come over, and put him out 
of the house ; and that the gentleman replied, that Mr. In- 
sanitas might go to the devil for all he cared ; that he would 


228 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


have nothing to do with such a crazy lunatic. The next 
morning every kind of disgraceful thing was said ; and in 
two or three days, reports of tarring and feathering me were 
current all over the place. Knowing the state of things, I 
packed my valise, and left. Now, really, if a woman should 
have come into my cabin, I would have gone through the 
window, if not through the door, in a minute. I really de- 
spise the sex ; and I swear I'll do the work no more, which 
brings me in constant intercourse with them. Preaching I 
like well enough ; but pastoral work I do despise, and I’ll do 
it no more.’ 

“ What do you think of that, doctor ? I told Mr. Insan- 
itas, I was very sorry to know that he was so much perse- 
cuted ; that my experience with the female sex was just op- 
posite to his ; that I had always found the women my trust- 
worthy friends ; that I had great pleasure in visiting them ; 
and that the pastoral work of the ministry was very delight- 
ful to me.” 

“ Well, Mr. Bray,” replied the doctor, “ I think Mr. In 
sanitas as you call him, is a fit subject for the lunatic asylum, 
as your bishop is for the menagerie.” 

“ My dear doctor, if one thing more than another tempts 
me to quit the work of the ministry, it is the knowledge of 
the inferior manhood which enters it.” 

“ It is rather late for you to know that, Mr. Bray ; I sup- 
posed it was a fact known to all. It has been known to me 
all my life. Of course a man will find exceptions ; but the 
rule is that a man who possesses brains, will go where he can 
use it, and not where, in the very nature of things, it must 
become as stagnant water.” 

“ But, doctor, I think the pulpit should be the very field 
of labor where the profoundest and highest mind could ac- 
complish the most for himself and others.” 

“ I’ll admit, Mr. Bray, that it should be ; but I deny that 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 229 

it is. On the contrary, it is fitting such a mind as you speak 
of, only as a place to go to sleep in. When I see an able 
man in the pulpit, l pity him ; when I hear him preach, I 
partly feel the lash that is held over him ; and when I hear 
him repeat the creed, I know his words assert one thing, 
while in his heart he believes another. But he is led from 
fear of the lash and its consequences, like a lamb to the 
slaughter. On the other hand, when I see one of your 
average idiots dosing a congregation with, ‘thus saith the 
Lord,’ and ‘ thus saith the church, ’ I feel as a part of nat- 
ure so greatly offended at his almost blasphemous nonsense, 
that I curse myself for a fool for coming where priests are 
known to rave. If the average preacher could be only made 
to know with what indifference or contempt the man sitting 
in the seat before him, receives his thunderings, I feel con- 
fident that he would be ashamed thereafter to manufacture 
his lightnings again/’ 

“ I can not but sympathize with you, doctor, in your 
righteous indignation. I well remember hearing such ser- 
mons myself, and how they filled my very soul with contempt 
for those who preached them. It was certain that the 
preacher I listened to, was either educated or not educated. 
If educated, I could not believe that his head admitted the 
truth of his lips, and I therefore had a contempt for him be- 
cause of his insincerity, and lack of manhood ; if uneducated, 
I could not think that he rightfully or worthily filled the 
position he held, and I therefore had a contempt for him be- 
cause of his conceit and audacious pretension. It was a 
cruel thing for me in those days to hear such sermons ; for 
it really seemed a foretaste of the hell the preacher spoke of. 
I was certain that the character of the God I worshipped, 
did not agree with that of the being the preacher declared ; 
that, therefore, in a true sense, one of us had no God at all, 
was in fact an atheist ; for since God is one, He can not be 


I 


230 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


apprehended by two persons who have contradictory notions 
concerning Him. It is true I went to church generally, and 
sat good-manneredly in my seat ; but ten thousand needles 
and pins seemed to prick me, frequently turning the place 
of worship into one of martyrdom for me.” 

“ We have all had such feelings, Mr. Bray. In these 
days, however, I rarely go to church, and therefore rarely 
expose myself to the martyrdom you speak of. I have 
noticed that the more ignorant the preacher, the more cer- 
tain he is concerning those matters which nobody knows 
anything about ; also the more groundless the dogma 
asserted, the more vehement is the preacher in insisting on 
its truth. When the foremost of the age turn their backs 
on a dogma as contradicted by the known facts of science, 
and the deliverance of the reason, it is then that the 
preacher rages, and utters his maledictions against the un- 
godly speculations of science. The higher reason lifts her 
head beyond the mists of superstition into the clear light of 
heaven, discovering the filth of priestly rags, the higher the 
preacher rises in his holy indignation, and, striking the 
desk in his rage, with one blow knocks the Humboldts and 
Darwins and Huxleys into hades. If I had any faith in 
the miracles of the New Testament, and wished to see a 
person possessed of the devil, as I go to a hospital to look 
for a sick man, so should I go to a church pulpit to look for 
a man possessed. What a logomachy the pulpit is ! One 
insists on immersion, the other laughs at it ; one insists on 
baptismal regeneration, the other scouts the idea; the Epis- 
copalian denies the validity of the orders of the other great 
Protestant bodies, claiming that no man can rightfully and 
authoritatively perform the functions of a minister, unless 
he has received ordination from the hands of a bishop, and 
they wink at his claims. Finally the Roman Catholic denies 
the ministerial authority of any and all, unless received 


ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD. 


231 


from a bishop in communion with the Pope of Rome ; and 
even asserts the hopeless state of all who are not within the 
pale of the holy Church of Rome. At this a howl is heard 
from the Episcopalian officers who readily see their lines 
are threatened with confusion, when their generalship is 
held up to the ridicule of their enemies. What a great 
body of truth the church possesses ! There never was 
such a many-headed, dubious monster speaking great 
things in a language which nobody understands. I am 
glad that the day of the church is passing, and that of reas- 
on coming. Ring out the old; ring in the new.” 

“ My dear doctor, I must leave you now. Let me beg 
you not to throw away the kernel with the shell; nor refuse 
to clothe the body in more beautiful garments, when you 
expose it by stripping off its filthy rags.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR.— RESIGNATION. 

I was sitting one evening in my study, hard at work as an 
earnest student can be, when I heard a knock at the door 
of my heart. Being unwilling to be disturbed at that time, 
I sat as still as possible, hoping thereby to lead my visitor 
to infer I was absent from home. But the silence was 
broken by louder and louder knocks, which made me fear 
that my presence at home was known to my visitor. In a 
somewhat unpleasant mood, I opened the door, and inquired 
who was there. 

“ I am Reason,” was the answer. “ I am come to have 
that talk you have so frequently promised me, concerning 
the groundwork of your faith. I acknowledge you have 
been quite respectful to me; but still I hope you have such 
leisure this evening as will enable you to fulfil’ your 
promise.” 

“ Come in, Reason,” I answered. “ Although your 
knotty questions are frequently disturbing to me, yet for the 
sake of preserving or establishing peace between you and my 
heart, who, as intimate acquaintances, should be on the very 
best of terms, I think it best to hear whatever you have to 
say.” 

“ Thank you, sir. This is a privilege I have long 
sought. I hope my coming may result in our mutual ben- 
efit.” 

“ I hope so, Reason. What first do you wish to speak 
to me about ?” 

“ I come with many grievances. They are all so impor- 
232 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


233 


tant that I regard it immaterial whether I state the first 
last, or the last first. I see you have the Hebrew bible in 
your hands. Do you prefer the original to the transla- 
tions ? ” 

“ I always make it a practice, Reason, to read the He- 
. brew bible every day. I have read it through nearly three 
times; and as in reading it one can more clearly see the 
true or radical meaning of the words, I prefer the Hebrew 
to any translation.” 

“ I am glad you are so well acquainted with the Hebrew. 
It certainly enables you to escape many of the errors of the 
accepted version; but your interpretation would be much 
more exact, had you a lexicon prepared by some one with- 
out Christian or Jewish bias. The bible, as you know, 
stands upon the lectern of your church, as the very word of 
God; and from what the people hear their ministers say 
about it, and its conspicuous position in the church, they 
naturally enough regard it as proceeding from the very 
mouth of God. Have you yourself no doubts about its in- 
spiration ? ” 

“ I believe the bible, Reason, is a holy book, full of 
eternal truth, and as such fit to be your guide.” 

“ That is not an answer to my question. Do you to-day, 
as you did in times past, believe that those who wrote the 
bible, did so under the immediate guidance of God ? ” 

“ In my childhood, O Reason, I regarded the bible as 
divine and infallible; but, I am sorry to say, since I have 
learned what I have from you, although I accept it as con- 
taining much of holy truth, I do not, and can not, regard it 
any longer as literally inspired.” 

“With regard to such a book, it is nonsense, if not wicked, 
to talk of literal inspiration. I am glad you have given up 
that idea. That ministers deceive the people as they do, is 
not a difficult fact for me to explain; but it is one which 


234 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


heaps disgrace on them. I have often smiled on hearing 
them read the twentieth chapter of Exodus, how that God 
with his finger wrote the ten commandments, and gave them 
to Moses. I have told you, as I have tried to tell them, that 
the ten commandments know no such origin; nor from my 
knowledge of the history of the Jewish religion, and the 
many other religions of the world, can I admit that Moses 
was ever their author. I can not tell you exactly what the 
work of Moses was; but I do emphatically deny that he 
was really the author of the ten commandments. Moses 
was a wise, shrewd and great character. He was a Hebrew 
of the tribe of Levi, who in the natural course of events 
had received the benefit of a thorough Egyptian education, 
and the standing of the ruling caste in that country. But 
though indebted to Egypt for his education and social stand- 
ing, he felt still greater obligations to his own kindred; 
and when he saw them, once free men of the plains, now 
serfs of their Egyptian lords, he determined on their deliv- 
erance, and, with this object in view, set himself at their 
head. Having had all the benefits of a learned Egyptian 
education, he was well acquainted with Egyptian cosmogony, 
theology, and such sacred writings as were extant, and 
known to the priests of that religious country. I am willing 
to admit that Moses may have formed a kind of digest out 
of the materials known to him on the subject; that he may 
have purified and simplified the modes, forms, and cere- 
monies, of religious worship; that from his superior mind 
stored with the varied learning of the times, he may have 
made some original contributions to such digest; that 
assisted by his father-in-law, Jethro, a priest of Sinai, he may 
have given the Israelites their national god, Jahve; but that 
there was anything miraculous about the work of Moses, or 
about the origin of the ten commandments, I emphatically 
deny; and I insist that it is very wrong in ministers to teach 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


235 


that there is. Ministers are too fond of either not stating 
known facts at all, or, which is about as bad, of only half 
stating them. They give the people to understand that 
the first five books of the bible were written by Moses; yet 
they know, or should know, that they were not. The so- 
called books of Moses were written hundreds of years after 
he had passed away; and their substance had been handed 
down by tradition and legend.” 

“ Then you teach, O Reason, that the Jahve of the Israel- 
ites was only one god among the many who were, in those 
days, thought to rule over the affairs of men.” 

“I have said, sir, that Moses may have given the Israel- 
ites their national god, Jahve. This is only what he would 
have been expected to do, since in those days every people 
had their national god. The name he chose for the god of 
the Israelites was Jahve, a word not of Hebrew origin, when 
taken in the sense in which Christians use it. Jethro, priest 
of Sinai, and father-in-law of Moses, may have been Moses’ 
advisor in choosing this name; or he may have given the 
word to Moses independently, as an appropriate name for 
the god of the people over whom Moses, his son-in-law, was 
to rule as priest, and king, and legislator. 

“ I can not tell you exactly who are the authors of the 
different books of the Old Testament, any more than I can 
tell, you for certain who are the authors of all those of the 
New Testament. The learned Spinoza, you remember, held 
that the writings of the Old Testament were not produced 
until the time of Ezra. So much I can say: the writings of 
the Old Testament grew as the sacred writings of other 
peoples ; and they contain, as all other such writings, much 
that is good, and much that is evil. I should find no fault, 
if ministers would tell the people the truth about the bible. 
It is not a miraculous book. The bible, as all other similar 
books, is largely the product of traditions and legends, and 


236 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


treats of the rise and progress of a people, of their 
warriors, priests, prophets, morals, cosmogony, and the- 
ology. The historical books of the Old Testament were 
for the first time subjected to a comprehensive revision dur- 
ing* the Babylonian Exile. I would for the sake of truth 
that the whole bible were subjected to-day to a thorough 
purging. It is a good book ; but it might be made a much 
better one, if its absurdities, contradictions, immoralities, and 
even obscenities, were purged away. That ignorant people 
should claim God as its immediate author, we should of 
course expect, as similar claims are made for. all the different 
bibles of the world. But when I see men who professedly 
have sat under my instructions in schools and seminaries, 
making such claims, I feel offended as well as ashamed, — 
offended because of my love for the truth, and ashamed be- 
cause of their real ignorance or insincerity. Let others do 
as they will; you, I hope, will not claim God as the author 
of a book which, to a large extent, might be greatly im- 
proved by the revision of a good man; and which, in no 
sense, calls for any other origin than a purely human and 
natural one.” 

“ My acquaintance with you, O Reason, has led me to 
refuse my assent to anything as having a miraculous origin 
for which a natural one may be reasonably inferred ; and to 
refuse my assent to the genuineness of a reported miracle, 
unless substantiated by evidence whose nature is like that 
which it is claimed to substantiate, — that is, unless the so- 
called miracle be substantiated by supernatural evidence. I 
do not believe that a miracle has ever occurred. I find a 
full and sufficient cause in man, nursed as he naturally is by 
the fostering care of God, for all that the bible contains, j 
claim the bible to be a holy book because it deals with that 
which is most sacred and dear to the human heart ; but I 
find in man, as I have said, a sufficient and reasonable cause 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


2 37 


for whatever I find therein. I fully agree with you, O 
Reason, that there is nothing miraculous or supernatural 
about the origin of the ten commandments, nor any other 
portion of the bible ; nor do I teach my people that there is.” 

“Your conduct meets my approbation ; But I fear your 
brethren of the clergy will suspect you of trying to steal 
away their household gods, and your bishop of trying to 
remove the strongest sanction for his proud and superstitious 
claims.” 

“ Of that, O Reason, I can not speak. But painful as it 
may be, I will follow your guidance, and leave the results 
with God, — not the god Jahve of whom you have been speak- 
ing, but with God, the one and only Universal Father of all 
nations and worlds.” 

“ During almost every church service, you say: ‘ God 
spake these words and said, Thou shalt have no other gods 
before me.’ If, as you say, you do not believe that the ten 
commandments were given directly by God to Moses, do 
you not feel some hesitation, some conscientious scruples, 
when you utter these words ?” 

“ I confess, O Reason, that I do. But since as often and 
fully as possible I give the people to understand my belief 
concerning these matters, I comfort myself with the thought 
that I can not be justly charged with hypocrisy. Perhaps you 
would say that I am at least guilty of idly using the name of 
God ; but I do not think you would, if you thoroughly con- 
sidered the matter.” 

“ To take the name of God in vain, is certainly a great sin; 
but when I say this, as I do not mean the god of the super- 
stitious Greek, so do I not mean the god of the superstitious 
Israelite. The Israelitish conception of God, was but little 
if any different from that of the other uncivilized nations of 
those days. Their god gave Moses the ten commandments ; 
in like manner did the god of the Greeks give his decrees to 


238 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Rhadamanthus. If Moses had a difficult problem to solve, 
he sought the aid of his god ; in like manner did Minos 
repair to his deity, and ask his advice, when in similar dif- 
ficulties. When Moses wished to converse with his god, he 
went to the top of Mount Sinai ; so with the Greeks, — the 
home of their god, who was the father of the gods and men, 
was the cloud-enveloped Mount Olympus. The heathen 
gods were mighty in battle ; in like manner was the god of 
the Jews a man of war. As the various heathen gods were 
rivals, and actuated by jealousy, so was it with the god of 
the Israelites, who said, ‘ Thou shalt not have any other gods 
before me.’ It were impossible that such a command could 
come from the one infinite and eternal God who knows, as no 
finite being can, that He is God alone. The gods of the 
heathens were sometimes overcome ; so with the god of the 
Israelites, whose most sacred dwelling-place, the ark, was 
captured, and who could not drive out the inhabitants of the 
valley, because they had chariots of iron. They were also 
at times outwitted ; so with the god of the Israelites, of 
whom it is said, the devil having succeeded in destroying his 
plans, ‘ It repented the Lord that he had made man on the 
earth, and it grieved him at his heart.’ The gods of the 
heathens used to plot and deceive ; .so with the god of the 
Israelites, who could purposely harden Pharoah’s heart, send 
a lying spirit to deceive Ahab the king, and, at another time, 
to deceive a prophet. As the heathen gods were supposed 
to enjoy the smell of sacrifices, and the sight of the victim’s 
blood, so with the god of the Israelites, who smells a sweet 
savor, and around whose altar the blood of the victim is 
sprinkled ; for ‘ without the shedding of blood, there is no 
remission of sins.’ As the heathen gods were often at war 
one with another, so with the god of the Jews, — ‘ And there 
was war in heaven ; Michael and his angels fought against 
the dragon.’ The Israelitish conception of God was that 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


239 


which was commonly held in those times, no better, no 
worse ; but it was infinitely inferior to that afterwards held 
by the noble minds of the Greeks and Romans. 

“ But when you say in the service, ‘ God spake these 
words and said,’ although in these words there is no literal 
truth whatever ; yet, since you convey to the audience the 
idea that the one and only God gave the ten commandments 
directly to Moses, it would be speaking his name in vain, 
unless you gave the people to understand your belief in the 
matter. But, having done this, it would not be taking God’s 
name in vain, to read these words, though you disbelieve in 
their literal truth. However, to say with the lips one thing, 
and in the heart believe another, is a most dangerous prac- 
tice, and one which can not be too strongly condemned. It 
is hard to see how one who does not believe in the literal 
truth of these words, can consistently utter them. Here 
there is good reason for your hesitation, your conscientious 
scruples. I advise you to act with great care in the matter, 
lest in trying to save a little, you waste much.” 

“ Since you first began to visit me, O Reason, and ask me 
your searching questions, I have wished over and over I had 
never seen the work of the ministry ; but having entered it, 
it is hard to turn aside, — hard because of the difficulty 
experienced in falling readily into new lines of work, hard 
because of disavowing openly what you have as openly 
avowed, and hard because there are some holy things con- 
nected with such a life. In my heart I long for a pure and 
simple theology, — a theology rid of all the grossly anthro- 
pomorphic conceptions which prevail in all the churches of 
orthodoxy. I sometimes hope to see that day when the 
churches will shake off the filth of dark ages, and clothe 
themselves about with a more glorious clothing ; when 
priestly vestments will be no longer soaked in the blood of a 
vicarious sufferer, nor a soul be cast into hell because he 


240 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


does not recognize in a human form the all-prevailing and 
infinite God. God have mercy on me, and direct my ways ! 
They are dubious and dark ; yet I will go along trusting in 
Him, to bring me into the way wherein I should go. Surely, 
O Reason, you can not think me worthy of censure.” 

“ Considering all things I do not. I recognize your 
difficult position, and can not but sympathize with you. Do 
not be discouraged. If you are honest, and continue to 
search after the truth, the way will appear more and more 
plain to you. The theology you speak of, will not be long 
in coming; but I fear its coming will not be in your day. 
The interests of powerful organizations are opposed to such 
a change. These vast bodies will hold their ground as long 
as possible, but little by little will they be forced to yield; 
and finally, pressed on all sides, they shall flee from the field, 
and truth shall claim the victory. It is natural enough 
that the priests of Christendom should teach their people 
that Christianity is the only divine religion, and that it will 
continue forever; for the priests of all other religions do 
likewise. It is to their interests thus to act. Christianity, 
like all the other great religions, is only a stepping-stone, a 
stage, a scaffolding, upon which, if the earnest and thought- 
ful man stand, he is better enabled to reach after pure 
theism. God leads the minds of men, step by step, into a 
simple and pure theology. Believe me, all religions are, in 
a measure, useful for the time and place; they all vary as 
the minds of their adherents become enlightened; they all 
have earnest, though deluded, priests and bishops; and 
what is best of all, they all have something of good mixed 
with much that is evil. They all, though in a bloody and 
most repulsive way, offer a road to life; they all serve, in a 
measure, to strengthen the weak and despairing; and they 
give their adherents the hope of rejoining their friends after 
death. They all come professedly with a blessing for their 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


241 


followers, and at times a real blessing is received; though 
not unfrequently the value of the blessing received, is more 
than outweighed by the attendant and consequent evils. 
To him who has no taste, the bitter is as the sweet; so to 
the unenlightened mind, the greatest of errors may appear 
the profoundest of truth. It is to the ignorant, therefore, 
that the religions of the day appear dressed in such attract- 
ive clothing; the thoughtful soul can find in them but little 
attraction for him. Indeed, the prevailing religions are 
painful to him. He sees the cunning and hypocrisy of 
those who sell the wares, as well as the worthlessness of 
most of the wares that are sold. Therefore he does not in- 
vest. It is because of this that the really great and pure 
souls stand alone in the world: they have but little sympa- 
thy from the age they live in. This is as true of Socrates 
as of Christ; as true of one age as of another. By his ac- 
cusers Socrates was thought an infidel; so in all probability 
was Christ. What was true of them, has been, and will be, 
true of their noble and pure-minded brethren. Truly 
enough may it be said of such, they are not of this world; 
yet on them do the hopes of this world hang. You remem- 
ber the passage, 1 In the beginning was the Word and the 
Word was God.’ Here we have a good example of how 
shamefully and wickedly translators do bend the sense of 
the original to suit their own crooked minds. It should 
read, In the beginning was reason and reason was God. In 
such a rendering of the original, we would have a positive 
truth. God is reason; and, therefore, let me advise you to 
live a reasonable life. As much as possible seek a reason 
for all you say and do: for all your faith, your hope, and 
your fears. Follow after reason, let her not depart out of 
thy sight; and the Infinite Reason shall shine forth more 
and more, making thy night bright as the day. 

“ I have said all I will for the present. When I come 
16 


242 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


again to question you, I hope that I may find you still more 
ready to receive me, and listen to my advice. In all your 
ways be thoughtful, studious, honest, truthful, and sincere. 
He who thus lives, lives the most religiously, and, in due 
time, becomes most like God.” 

As my visitor left me, I could not but admit, in my very 
soul, the beauty, simplicity, harmony, and reasonableness, of 
his remarks, and I determined, by God’s help, to follow 
more fully than ever the advice I had received. 

Notwithstanding my resolution, I was much agitated in 
mind; and in my troubled state sought peace, where I 
knew I could find it — in the society of my lovely Mabel. I 
found her with our beautiful child at her breast. What a 
transporting sight ! A vision of threefold beauty stood be- 
fore me. There was the loveliness of the mother, the beauty 
of the child, and the sublimity of the scene. As I stood 
before this beautiful woman, happy mother, and lovely wife, 
I felt as if a ship coming from a storm-tossed sea into a 
harbor of refuge. In Mabel there existed a magic power 
that said to my troubled mind, ‘ peace be still and in that 
lovely, loving wife my heart and soul found rest. 

“ Harry,” she said, “ why is it you are so troubled ? 
Sometimes you appear almost absent-minded. I am sure it 
is not good for your health, and you must know it grieves 
me.” 

“ Mabel, I am troubled at the thought of the disagree- 
ment of my mind with the teachings of the church at 
whose altar I serve. You know, much found within her 
walls is very dear to me; and, besides, she is the most toler- 
ant of all the orthodox churches. But when I think of the 
dogmas to which, as a minister, it is presumed I subscribe, 
and know that in my soul I can not believe them, I am tossed 
by the wild conflicts within, as a boat in a tempest. One of 
the most painful things I ever had to do, was to preach that 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


243 


sermon on missions, and take the offertory for the general 
missionary society. By such act it is, and ought to be, 
understood that I believe in missions. The foundation of 
all missionary work is, that out of Christ all nations are in 
a lost and hopeless state; or, at least, that without faith in 
Christ as their Redeemer and God, there is no known salva- 
tion for any people. You know I do not believe that the 
so called heathen nations are lost, or that they are without 
a known salvation, any more than we are. I have often 
told you I have no doubt that the honest and faithful Brahmin, 
Buddhist, or Mohammedan, is a child of God, and heir to a 
better life after death, in the same sense, and with the same 
right, as I am. If there is any use in missionary labor, it 
consists only in the possibility of giving the uncivilized na- 
tions of the world a higher form of life. It is not needed 
to bring them into a state of salvation ; for in that state 
every child of man is, and always has been. If I believed 
otherwise, I should have to say, ‘ Poor God ! What can be 
done for him ! The happiness of himself and his children 
is wholly dependent on the good-will and activity of the 
missionary society.’ All nations have, as they believe, their 
redeemers, their divine mediators, and holy revelations; and 
this is all we can say for ourselves. We believe certain 
things which distinguish us as Christians; but of those same 
things, we can prove absolutely nothing. In such belief I 
can put no real confidence. On this one thing I wholly 
rely: the universal fatherhood of God. God dwells in all 
things, in all men; and He is reflected by each man as man’s 
mind is polished with intelligence, and his heart with 
purity. All men receive Him in some measure; of this we 
are sufficiently certain from our knowledge of the religious 
nature of universal man. The fact that man is a religious 
being, is proof enough that God is equally mindful of all. 
But apart from this, I am sure that a just and good God 


244 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


must be equally mindful of alt his children. The various 
nations of the world may dwell in different rooms, but they 
all dwell in their Father’s house, and feel his divine presence; 
or, we might say, the various children of the one Father 
may attend different classes in the same school, but all have 
the same wise Superintendent, and all pass from a lower to 
a higher grade, having at the same time, no matter what 
grade they may chance be in, the guidance and smile of the 
one great Teacher who careth alike for all. I do not believe 
that the nations without Christ are lost; nor do I believe 
in wasting money and many lives in forcing on a na- 
tion a form of religion not adapted to their peculiar nat- 
ure; for our religion is no more agreeable to their nature, 
than our climate is to their vegetation.” 

“ It would be hard for me to differ with you who have 
been my guide and teacher. With your own hands did you 
baptize me, and under your instructions and ministry was I 
confirmed. Most of the information I possess, I have 
derived from you. But concerning the matters of which 
you speak, I have thought the same nearly all my life, as 
you think now. I never could see, why a just and merciful 
God could let his light shine on one mere corner, and let 
the rest of the earth remain in outer darkness, only to curse 
it for not having his light. Nor have I ever understood, 
why a good and just God could rightfully blame any man 
for not receiving a new religion, when he is satisfied of the 
truth of his own; nor why Fie could rightfully blame a man 
who, finding no reasons according to his own honest con- 
victions, for the acceptation of Christ as God, refuses to 
believe in his divinity, but lives a pure and noble life. For 
my own part, I believe that every one who satisfies his own 
conscience in such matters, or, in other words, lives as he 
thinks he should, will go to heaven after death. God gives 
all his children such teachers as they need, and such light 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


245 


as their eyes are best prepared to receive. To us he has 
given Christ, and the light of his blessed gospel. As a fol- 
lower of Christ, I hope I may be worthy of my many privi- 
leges; but nothing can make me believe that God has any 
favorites. I believe the heathens call God ‘ Father ; ’ and I 
doubt not that they have the same right to do so, as I have. 
Harry, if I were you, I would not trouble myself so much 
about it. Every one knows how good and noble you are. 
A pure life is worth ever so much theology. Let that com- 
fort you ; and let theology alone.” 

“ My darling wife, what you ask is an impossibility. It 
is as impossible for me to live without thinking, as with- 
out eating; and this ceaseless thought it is, which makes my 
life a martyrdom. Every honest minister must feel that he 
is necessarily bound by the theology of the church to which 
he belongs, as a prisoner is bound by his chains. The lat- 
ter, as he tries hard to break away from his shackles, soon 
finds the iron cutting through to his flesh; and the former, 
as he tries to preach a reasonable doctrine, soon finds his 
church dogmas cutting through to his soul. If the theology 
of the church were as much like God as I believe you are, 
Mabel, then I could gladly receive it; but your principles do 
not agree with the dogmas of the church; nor is your 
theology that of the church to which you belong. The truth 
is, that should the dogmas of the church get into your heart, 
you would drive them out as you would a rattle-snake from 
your bed-room.” 

“ I know my information is nothing when compared to 
yours, Harry. I suppose this is the reason that I don’t 
trouble myself about these matters, as you do. I am glad I 
have the comfort of my religion; I am glad I love the 
blessed Jesus. But I am also glad I believe the people of 
heathen countries, who do the best they know how, are 
children of God, and go to heaven after death. With all 


246 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


your feelings about the matter, I think you have many 
things to be thankful for. Only a day or two ago I heard 
one gentleman say to another, ‘Well, they may say what 
they please about his broad principles, I know I never heard 
Mr. Bray preach without receiving information as well as 
good ! ’ ” 

“That is comforting Mabel; but, do you know, I have a 
good mind to take a vacation, and study law for a couple of 
years. This would take me away from the forces which now 
agitate my mind so much, and give me a chance to regain 
my composure; besides, it would enable me to support my 
family in another way, should I feel in my heart unable to 
take up the work of the ministry again. God grant that I 
may be led to do those things that are good in his sight.” 

“ I am not afraid, Harry, but that you can get a living; 
but I do hope you will never feel obliged to turn aside from 
the work of the ministry. You have done very much good, 
to my own knowledge, since you have been ordained.” 

“ I hope, and believe, Mabel, you speak the truth. None 
could work harder than I have; but I am sure you would 
not wish me to continue in the work of the ministry, and 
preach what I believe in my heart not to be the truth.” 

“ No, Harry, I would not; but is it not possible for one 
to be too out-spoken ?” 

“I presume it is, Mabel; but I think the danger is the 
other way. If one thing more than another makes me have 
a low opinion of ministers, it is my unwavering belief that 
they are the most insincere body of men in the world. 
Where there is one minister who preaches what he believes, 
God is my judge, I believe there are ten who do not.” 

“ Harry, what are the dogmas, or accepted beliefs, that 
you can not agree with ? I suppose I have often heard you 
say; but please state them in order, that I may have them 
more clearly in my mind.” 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


247 


“ I do not believe in eternal damnation; I do not believe 
in the infallibility of the Scriptures; I do not believe in the 
vicarious atonement of Christ; I do not believe in a literal 
resurrection of the dead; I do not believe that any man, 
civilized or uncivilized, who lives, as he believes, an hon- 
orable and just life, will be damned; I do not believe that 
nations without the knowledge of Christ, are in a lost con- 
dition; I doubt that a direct revelation has ever been made 
from God to man; I doubt the bible which is exponential of 
the Christian religion, is, in any real sense, any more divine 
than the many other bibles which are exponential of the 
other great religions of the world; I doubt that the method 
by which man was first brought into being, was, in nature, 
different from that by which other animals were first 
brought into being, — that is, I doubt that man was specially 
created; I doubt very much that Jesus Christ was ever born, 
in a real sense, of a virgin, — that is I am inclined to believe 
he had a father and mother, as I myself had; I doubt that a 
miracle has ever been performed; I doubt that the future 
state is fixed and unalterable; I doubt a localized heaven; I 
doubt a localized hell; I doubt the existence of a personal 
devil. I could add more, but you have surely heard 
enough." 

“ Well, Harry, I do not know; but I suspect other schol- 
arly ministers, if the truth were known, have about the same 
belief in regard to these things as yourself; but you must do 
what you think best. Mabel knows you will do what is 
right; and I am perfectly satisfied that God will never for- 
sake you nor blame you for being honest to your own con- 
victions of duty and truth.” 

“ As to scholarly ministers, Mabel, they are few and far 
between. Our ministers are first-class at smoking cigars, 
and drinking wine; but as to any real thought, I assure you, 
they rarely descend below the surface of things. That God 


248 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

will forsake me, my darling, I can not for a moment think. 
I love Him, hunger and thirst for Him; and I pray with my 
whole soul, that I may never stray from the path wherein He 
would have me walk.” 

“ Harry, is there any church whose principles you fully 
believe; any denomination whose teachings you wholly and 
unreservedly accept ?” 

“ I do not know that there is, Mabel. My belief might 
be called simple theism, which is, and always has been, the 
religious faith of the most learned of every age. Of this 
statement I am certain enough. There are, it is true, many 
pretty pictures in our orthodox churches, which are very 
pleasing to the eyes of the many who worship there; but I* 
assure you, it never has been proved that those pictures, 
however pleasing, ever had a real existence outside of the 
diseased or superstitious brain which originated them. I con- 
sider any and every religious principle not sanctioned by sim- 
ple theism, to say the least, doubtful. Orthodoxy is a charm- 
ing name; but when examined by the critical mind, it appears 
equivalent to the will of the party in power, whose interest 
it always is to enforce that will by every possible sanction. 
When I think of orthodoxy, I imagine a cow standing be- 
fore me. The tail goes where the cow wills it; and ortho- 
doxy has depended on the emperor’s wish. I will here give 
you an example of this: 

“ ‘ We, the three emperors, will that all our subjects 
follow the religion taught by St. Peter to the Romans, pro- 
fessed by those saintly prelates, Damascus, pontiff of Rome, 
and Peter, bishop of Alexandria, that we believe the one 
divinity of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, of majesty co- 
equal, in the Holy Trinity. We will that all those who 
embrace this creed, be called catholic Christians; we brand 
all the senseless followers of other religions by the infamous 
name of heretics, and forbid their conventicles to assume 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


249 


the name of churches; we reserve their punishment to the 
vengeance of heaven, and to such measures as divine in- 
spiration shall dictate to us.’ 

“This, Mabel, is the edict of Gratian, Yalentinian II, and 
Theodosius, emperors of Rome, A. D. 380. Commenting 
on this edict, Dean Milman says, in his history of Christian- 
ity, ‘ Thus the religion of the whole Roman world was 
enacted by two feeble boys and a rude Spanish soldier.’ It 
is certain, Mabel, that from the legislatures of the different 
countries, not a little of the prestige of the church has been 
derived. I remember myself when no one ever thought of 
calling the sectarian meeting-houses in England by the 
name of ‘churches.’ That name was exclusively applied to 
the Church of England, whose ministers were better known 
for their indolence, and fox-hunting tendencies, than for 
any spiritual power they may have possessed. Bishops 
and priests, more especially the former, have been more 
noted as warriors, and for laxity in life, than for their power 
of healing sin-sick souls. Says Lecky : ‘ In looking back, 
with our present experience, we are driven to the melancholy 
conclusion that, instead of diminishing the number of wars, 
ecclesiastical influence has actually and very seriously in- 
creased it.’ He who really knows the history of orthodoxy, 
can be but little moved by its pretensions. I do not say, 
Mabel, that I have no faith at all in some of the dogmas 
peculiarly characteristic of orthodoxy; but I must say I 
have doubt concerning them. And it is because of these 
doubts that I wish to take a rest to ease my mind of the 
many disturbing forces which now so greatly agitate it.” 

“ Your Mabel is greatly troubled for your sake, Harry. 
I do wish I could help you to clearly determine what you 
should do. We may at least both pray that God may lead 
you to decide for the best.” 

“ Though faith in most of my childhood beliefs grows 


250 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


weaker every day, Mabel, my faith in prayer, weakens not. 
To God as to a father I am constantly carrying my doubts 
and fears, and as constantly expecting from Him a solution. 
Between my desire to be true to the church, and my desire 
to be true to my own convictions, there is an irrepressible 
strife which makes even existence itself almost unbearable. 
In solving the questions which produce this strife, I wish to 
act slowly, but deliberately. I feel shut up as it were in a 
hollow sphere, as I was in my dream ; and as then, so now, 
not able to liberate myself, I confidently expect that God 
will make an exit. Of one thing I am sure, — I wish the will 
of God done in me ; for it is most reasonable to believe that 
a man had better a thousand times die, than live in opposi- 
tion to his true and only real life ; and God, in my opinion, 
is the true life of the human soul, apart from which it can 
but wither and die, as the tree must die, if up-rooted from 
its parent soil.” 

On Tuesday, October 7th, 1880, I resigned the rectorate 
of Trinity Church, Prairietown, Adams, determined to move 
east, and, if possible, to prosecute the study of the law. In 
producing this resolution, there were at least four causes: 

1: The conscious conflict of dogma with reason; 

2 : The hope that a rest from ministerial work, might bring 
me mental quiet, and give me time to form definite, 
and decisive conclusions ; 

3: The wish for the ability to get a living for my family, 
independent of the church; 

4: The desire to complete a legal course as being apart 
of the university requirements in the final examina- 
tion for the degree of LL. D. 

As illustrating my theological teaching in Prairietown, I 
will conclude this chapter by giving a portion of a sermon I 
preached there on “ Happiness: ” 

“The days when purity of heart, and sadness of coun- 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR, 


2 5 * 


tenance were thought inseparable, are no doubt gone, and 
properly enough. Utilitarianism though perhaps to some 
extent an exaggeration, is yet more in conformity with 
human nature, than any system of ethics which teaches 
that pleasure is a barrier to the attainment of the highest 
manhood. 

“ In seeking a true polity for a people, we should first 
ask ourselves, what form of government will be the most 
agreeable, suitable, and enduring, and, at the same time, 
give them the highest benefits of social life. So in morals 
and religion, we must not, as many have done, make man to 
suit a preconstructed system, but the system to suit man as 
we find him, — the man of to-day as distinguished from the 
man of other ages, the being that inhabits this world of ours 
as distinguished from those who possibly dwell in more per- 
fect worlds. We must seek what will perfect, develop, edu- 
cate, all the powers of his varied nature. So far as any sys- 
tem fails in accomplishing this, so far is it a departure from 
the true method. 

“ As man is but a small part of the great whole, so is his 
nature a veritable copy of it. Nature does nothing in vain, 
and she is beautiful and happy. Incessant change charac- 
terizes her: frost and snow, sunshine and shade, cold and 
heat, summer and winter, storm and calm, abundance and 
want. So with man : his life is but a cycle of changes, — 
sorrow and gladness, pleasure and pain, the warmth of man- 
hood’s mid-day splendor, and the chilly air of life’s setting 
sun. Yet throughout all these varied scenes he continually 
strives for happiness. This is but natural, and nature is but 
the garment in which God wraps himself, and all her ways 
are but manifestations of the operating Deity. To conform 
to nature, is therefore to conform to God’s law; and to con- 
form to this law, is to be godlike ; and to be godlike, is to 
be continually striving for the perfection of our nature. 


252 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


However varied his life, man is only consistent with nature, 
therefore with himself as a part of nature, when he makes 
happiness his end. 

“ We can lay down therefore as our first proposition, that 
happiness is the end of life. This I am not only willing to 
admit, but all teaching which denies it, I regard as illogical, 
or founded on imaginary premises. You and I are each 
seeking pleasure, enjoyment. Our working-days, our sleep- 
less nights, our beating hearts, our aching heads, our days 
of suffering, our deeds of kindness, our deeds of hatred, are 
all the product of the one desire — the desire for happiness. 
That this is the end of all effort is evident; but why in seek- 
ing it, different men frequently pursue contradictory 
methods, is not so evident. We may say, however, that as 
nature in general is varied, so is human nature, and that this 
variety makes men pursue different courses in the pursuit of 
the one universal object — happiness. Moreover, when the 
nature is debased, it may make man pursue a course de- 
structive of what he aims at. Those who fail to attain hap- 
piness, may frequently be said to labor under a false 
impression, or false apprehension, either through a per- 
verted nature, or a lack of education, or both. There are 
those, for instance, who seeing the power of money, give 
themselves wholly to its acquisition. They are willing to 
shut up every avenue to their soul, except that of avarice; 
and to prevent the egress of any thought, except that which 
meditates on gold. The possession of money, the power of 
wealth, the flattery of parasites — these things appear to 
them radiant with beauty; and casting aside all scruples, 
disregarding all other claims and duties, they reach forward 
to the acquisition of worldly possessions, believing that 
once obtained, they will be to them a fountain of pleasure. 
I remember well in my boyhood four brothers, of whom 
one by report had said, ‘ I will make a fortune for my chil- 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 253 

dren, if I go to hell for it.’ He had succeeded in acquiring 
about ten millions of dollars, when he received a visit from 
Death, and was informed that the time was at hand for giv- 
ing an account of his stewardship. He piteously begged 
his visitor to depart, and offered his attendant physicians 
thousands of pounds, if they could force him from his pres- 
ence. But notwithstanding the power of gold, they were 
compelled to leave him to his fate; for they knew they had 
no power with death. It is evident that something was 
wrong with this man; for it is most improbable that a man 
who had lived well, whether Christian or heathen, would 
object to nature drawing the curtain at the close of this life. 
Because, as in any other drama, so in the drama of life, 
such a man wishes to see the next scene. 

“ Some there are who fancy their happiness best ob- 
tained by becoming the heads of political circles. Already 
they imagine themselves sought after by corporations, and 
office-seekers. Power is what they want. They do not 
understand that happiness and great power are not insep- 
arably connected; nor does the fatal mistake of Wolsey 
serve to correct their judgment. 

“ There are those who might say to me, it is ignoble to 
teach that man strives for his own happiness rather than 
his neighbor’s. To such I reply that man in seeking his 
own happiness, most effectually accomplishes that of 
society. We do not deny that self-denial is a principle of 
the human constitution, and that it must be an ever-active 
one in that man who wishes to develope the highest man- 
hood. Indeed, without any doubt, the power to restrain, to 
refuse to gratify, is not less necessary in the attainment of 
human happiness, than the power to accomplish. Passive 
energy is as necessary as active, in building up the perfect 
man. Nor should it ever be forgotten that one immoderate 
or unguarded act may work a greater injury than months of 


254 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE 


labor could repair; aye ! it might mar or ruin the whole 
life. Yet, even in the committal of this one blasting act, 
the person was seeking what he thought was his own hap- 
piness. 

“ The non-use of anything, is its impotence; the excess 
of anything, is the evil thereof. The self-love which Christ 
condemned, while apparently self-love, is really self- 
destruction; and destruction is not life’s end, but preserva- 
tion. Therefore the short-sighted selfishness of the vulgar, 
is not productive of their happiness; for it is not true self- 
love. I can say without limitation that no unbridled, 
immoderate, excessive, or unreasonable, act ever produces 
individual good or happiness. In the words of Aristotle: 

* Noble action and happiness are the same thing.’ Nothing 
can be said truer than this; and we should govern ourselves 
accordingly. 

“ There are those who apparently labor contrary to all 
their own interests, and for so doing earn the names of 
heroes — in charity, in philanthropy, in the church, in 
politics, in state, or on the field of battle; but whether a 
man dies the death of Nelson, a Howard, a Savonarola, a 
Becket, or a Cook, it may safely be said that he died pursu- 
ing what lie thought would most likely work out his own 
happiness. Great heroes have great souls, and great souls 
have good judgments, and good judgments look at final 
not less than immediate results. What to a short-sighted 
man may appear ruinous, to him who sees the end of things, 
may appear most desirable. But whether the judgment of 
the worker be correct or incorrect, I insist that the thing 
sought in the activity of every living being, is the laborer’s 
own happiness. Nevertheless, it is certainly true that 
while all men aim at happiness, only the few succeed in 
reaching it. You say, ‘but we can conceive a man or 
woman committing an act which they know must be ruin- 


AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR. 


255 


ous to their own interests; and in that case, they can not be 
seeking their own happiness.’ I reply you are mistaken. 
That they may be committing an act which, in your judgment, 
may be ruinous to their own interests, I am willing enough 
to admit; but I affirm that at the time they commit the act, 
however ruinous it may be, and however differently they 
might act in cooler moments, they are lost to all but the 
pleasure of the moment, and this pleasure appears just 
what they need. They can not see the deadly poison in the 
food they eat, nor the fatal fangs of the serpent they play 
with; rather do they say fall is fair, all is beautiful.’ 
But after a time, when the wickedness which was conceived 
is brought forth, they behold an evil-shaped monster, rather 
than the beautiful form they had imagined. That which 
promised to be their constant joy, turns out to be their cor- 
roding sorrow. 

“ Our blessed Lord was once asked, what is truth ; and 
the multitude might ask him to-day, were he here, what is 
happiness. The one great proof of darkness within, is the 
fact that while we think we are partaking of some dainty 
morsel, we are not unfrequently found eating our own flesh. 
Not that we know we are acting thus foolishly, for no man 
would wilfully and knowingly injure himself ; but by the 
fallaciousness of our judgment we may imagine the shadow 
to be the substance, or even destroy the very thing we are 
searching for. The sunken eye, the bloodless cheek, the tot- 
tering gait, the repulsive countenance, the ennui and lassi- 
tude, which characterize so many of our young men and young 
women, have their causes more frequently in dissipation than 
in any too severe mental labors. Your family physician 
knows the truth of this assertion. 

“ In judging what is for their own happiness, some are 
almost certain to be mistaken. Such mistake, when made, is 
not with all a sin ; it maybe only through a natural weakness. 


256 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


If we have but one talent, God holds us not responsible for 
having ten. The nature with which the child is endowed is fre- 
quently but a bow strung with poisoned arrow aimed at the 
heart of the child. The instruments of death were prepared 
for him, without money and without price, in the laboratory 
of his parents. The sins of descent are cumulative ; and 
because of this, man has an aggravated depravity, and is 
found everywhere deceived and deceiving. His appetites 
unbounded, his understanding narrow ; his desires devour- 
ing, his judgment untrue ; his passions a giant, his will a 
dwarf. One of old said that men were blessed, if knowing 
how and what to do, they did it ; and I may say that happy 
will be those parents who hearing these things, remember 
them, and act accordingly. Many a parent deserves no bless- 
ing from the child he has brought into being. Dear friends, 
I teach no idle vaporings ; I rave not ; I seek not to enforce 
extremes. I would teach you to be temperate in all things. 
Then will your mind and body be accordant ; and while you 
will seek happiness no more eagerly than before, you will 
seek it much more reasonably, and with a far greater prob- 
ability of attaining it. In every house will be a church ; in 
everv heart, enduring joy ; in every breast, immortal life.’ 


CHAPTER IX. 


REMOVE TO BETHABARA.— A GREAT TEMPTATION. 

We left the state of Adams, Thursday, October 7th, 1880, 
and after a brief visit of one week to Mabel’s parents, in the 
state of Jefferson, and a residence of one month in Kirkton, 
in the state of Franklin, we removed to Bethabara, in the 
latter state, to take charge of some mission work of which 
that town was the centre. 

When we left the state of Adams, it was my intention to 
enter a law-school ; but after making full inquiries, I was led 
to conclude that my ready means were insufficient to take a 
legal course. I therefore determined, if possible, to take 
charge of such work as would give me but little responsi- 
bility, and allow me some leisure hours to read what may be 
called the leading classics in the law, preparatory to taking 
the intended course at a law-school the following year. The 
bishop of the diocese of Kirkton, having spoken to me of 
the work in Bethabara, and of the beauty and quiet of the 
place, I concluded to take charge of it, and accordingly 
moved there with my family, November 20th, believing I had 
found just such work as I had been looking for 

Just before I left the state of Adams, the bishop of that 
diocese sent me the following letter : 

“ Metropolis, October 6th, 1880. 

“ My Dear Mr. Bray, — Your letter is only just received. 
I was so busy before leaving that I had to postpone all letter 
writing. I was indeed sorry not to see you. I will see the 
bishop of Hancock about you. I think he will need you in 
his diocesan seat in some one of his schools. I will certainly 
17 2 57 


258 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


do all I can for you. I have all confidence in you, and pray 
God to open a field for you in which your learning, industry, 
and zeal may find scope. There is no priest among us whom 
I more respect for his learning, ability, earnestness, and 
truthfulness than yourself. 

“ I herewith give you my blessing : may God Almightv 
bless, and care for, you and yours. 

“ The great Convention opened to-day with a service four 
hours long, very grand, and very impressive. 

“Affectionately Yours, 

X. Y. WUNDERGROSS.*' 

We had been living in Bethabara about a month, when a 
gentleman came to spend the evening with us. It was a 
very cold night, and we were all seated around the big 
heater, which seemed to laugh with pleasure at every new 
supply of maple or oak. Our visitor had been brought up 
in the Roman Catholic Church ; but was, at the time of mak- 
ing this visit, an unbeliever. 

“ My father,” he said, “ intended me for the priesthood ; 
but after acquiring a more intimate knowledge of the lives of 
the priests, and a somewhat superficial knowledge of the 
basis of the dogmas of the church, I refused to proceed with 
my studies for the priesthood, fell first into doubt, then into 
so-called infidelity. There is no body of men who are more 
full of unbelief than the educated clergy of the Roman 
Catholic Church ; but like other ministers of the so-called 
gospel, they perform their functions, simply as a genteel way 
of making their living. Seeing that their followers delight 
in humbug, they think it no evil to supply them with this 
means of pleasure, especially since by doing so they always 
manage to keep themselves fat and in good liking. 

“ Previous to my entrance upon a course of study for the 
priesthood, I had acted for a long time as priest’s boy ; and 
it was while acting in this capacity, that I first began to doubt 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


259 


the sincerity of the men who served at the altar. I was not 
long at my studies before this doubt so increased that I 
regarded every priest I met, as at heart a knave. I found it 
impossible to believe that any man of average intelligence 
could attempt to maintain, upon so shadowy evidence, such 
a stupendous cause. This may have been an extreme view; 
but as I look back upon it now, I do not think it far astray. 

“ After coming to the United States, I took up the study 
of the law. It was after I had become settled in my pro- 
fession that I went over some of my old studies, as a law- 
yer goes over his case ; and I was not long in coming to the 
conclusion, that we have no evidence whatever for accepting 
one-tenth of the dogmas of the church, and none whatever 
for believing in the reported miracles of the New Testa- 
ment. I saw plainly enough that even if the writers believed 
what they reported, it is no satisfactory evidence of the 
truth of their reports; for in like manner have thousands 
reported seeing fairies and ghosts, yet such reports find no 
acceptance with us to-day. Again, we all say the sun goes 
around the earth instead of the earth going around the sun; 
and there is more in this saying than we are apt to think. 
It shows for a certainty that there was a time when people 
believed it. But the fact that such a belief was undoubtedly 
held, is no reason that we should hold it to-day. All the 
reported miracles of the New Testament are susceptible of 
ready explanation, — first, on the ground that belief in miracles 
was general, during the age in which the reporters lived ; 
and, second, on the ground that those who wrote the ac- 
counts of the life of Christ, invented the stories about the 
miracles, as in their judgment being necessary to the credi- 
bility of the rest, since every great hero was expected to 
perform such. The story about the divine conception is 
really laughable, and would cause a sensible man to question 
the character of the Virgin Mary, did he not know that such 


260 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


divine conceptions have happened in the world a great num- 
ber of times. Any man who had become great in the eyes 
of the vulgar, whether a warrior, magician, legislator, or 
teacher, would surely be calendared as having been the 
result of a divine conception. It was therefore but natural 
that the ignorant followers of Christ should imagine that 
he had been divinely conceived, and declare it to their disci- 
ples. But it is preposterous to ask any man of common- 
sense to believe in such divine conceptions to-day. It is a 
good thing to be a true follower of Christ; but it is an in- 
sult to ask me as a pre-requisite to such discipleship, to 
accept the absurd and wicked stories about his divine 
descent. I am not certain, indeed, that such a character as 
Christ ever lived, and you know well that this opinion has 
been, and is, shared by no small number of eminent schol- 
ars; yet I am willing enough to assume that he did live, 
that he had an honest mother called Mary, and an honest 
father called Joseph, that he grew up and became a 
great reformer — Socrates as it were arising from the dead. 
I am willing enough to suppose that such a person as Jesus 
lived; that he was born as others are born, and died as 
many others have died — a martyr for the truth. But more 
than this no man should be asked to believe, who knows 
any thing of the present and past history of the world ; and 
more than this I for my part do not believe. I insist that it 
is no less absurd to believe the miraculous stories about the 
person of Christ, than the similar ones about the persons of 
other men — Buddha, for instance. Indeed, you know well 
that some of the most eminent thinkers of this age believe 
that Jesus is no more nor less than Buddha somewhat 
transformed to suit Jewish tastes and notions; that all the 
gospels are no more nor less than the stories about the 
birth, life, and death of Buddha, somewhat modified by 
time and place, to suit the reformed Jewish mind. I do not 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


261 


know that this supposition is true; but I am sure there must 
be some ground upon which to base such supposition, or it 
would not be made by men who stand second to none in the 
world; for an eminently good and wise man can find no 
pleasure in asserting his belief in a conscious falsehood. I 
must admit that the analogy between the birth, life, and 
death of Buddha, and the birth, life, and death of Jesus, 
seems almost exact; and it is by no means impossible that 
the Buddhistic traditions floated around among the Jewish 
people, clad as it were in Jewish clothing, and that, in due 
time, they assumed the form they have in our present gos- 
pels; for it would be an easy matter to change the name of 
the hero, making it a Jew called Jesus, instead of an Indian 
called Buddha. Look at the analogy: Buddha was born of 
a royal and virgin mother, so was Jesus; Buddha’s advent 
was announced to the virgin mother by a mighty angel, so 
was that of Jesus; at the birth of Buddha a new star ap- 
peared in the east, so it was at the birth of Jesus; wise men 
brought costly offerings from afar to the shrine of the infant 
Buddha, so was it with the infant Jesus; at seeing the infant 
Buddha we have a learned priest singing a nunc dimittis, 
and at the sight of the infant Jesus we have Simeon doing 
likewise, and both declare they had seen the promised Mes- 
siah ; when it was known that Buddha was born, a wicked 
king, fearing him as a future rival, sends spies after the boy, 
so was it during the infancy of Jesus; Buddha is one day 
missed by his parents who found him some time aftewards 
in an assembly of learned Rishis, surprising them with his 
questions and answers; so likewise was Jesus missed by his 
parents, and afterwards discovered, in a similar manner, 
amazing the Jewish doctors. Buddha had a fore-runner, a 
herald; so had Jesus. Buddha fasts in the desert, is tempted 
by the prince of evil spirits, and chooses his disciples; 
so Jesus fasts, is tempted by the devil, and chooses disciples. 


262 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Buddha had a beloved, a doubting, and a traitorous disci- 
ple, so had Jesus. Buddha compares the preacher to a 
sower, his gospel to a mustard-seed, false preachers to blind- 
men leading the blind, a repentant sinner to a returning 
prodigal; so did Jesus. At Buddha’s death the earth trem- 
bles, the rocks are rent asunder, and the sainted dead leave 
their graves; so is it at the death of Jesus. The Buddhistic 
church has convents, several orders of celibate monks, 
ecumenical councils, and an infallible pope supported 
especially by the priests who contribute toward his support 
from the money they receive for reading masses for the 
repose of departed souls; so is it with the Christian church. 
If this is not a sufficiently perfect parallel, I know not what 
would make one. 

“ You say that no man of common-sense believes these 
absurd stories about Buddha. I suppose you mean, no 
man of common-sense in European countries. For we 
know that there are hundreds of millions, many of whom 
are very learned men, who do believe these stories, and are 
most earnest followers of Buddha to-day. I am sure that 
no man with common-sense who lives blest with the scien- 
tific knowledge of this nineteenth century, believes in these 
Buddhistic stories; but for the same reason he denies these, 
does he also deny those concerning Jesus. Still, a person 
would think that a Buddhistic priest would have the 
advantage over the Christian, since the faith of the former 
was well established, and very widely recognized, before 
Christianity was known, or thought of. I find no reason 
for accepting the teachings of the Buddhistic church con- 
cerning their great founder, except that he may have been, 
and probably was, a wise and great man; I find no reason 
for accepting the teachings of the Christian church con- 
cerning their great founder, except that he may have 
been, and probably was, a wise and good man. The Christian 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


church denies the claims of the Buddhistic, and I think 
rightly so; the Buddhistic church denies the claims of the 
Christian, and I think with equal right. As no evidence 
has ever been adduced upon which the scientific mind can 
found his faith in the miraculous accounts concerning 
Buddha, so has there no sufficient evidence ever been 
adduced upon which he may found his faith in the miracu- 
lous accounts concerning Jesus. The weakness of the one, 
is the weakness of the other; both stand upon superstition, 
both fall in the presence of science. Of the two accounts 
there is but little preference to be given to the one over the 
other. It seems, however, that the Buddhistic is the more 
acceptable, absurd and impossible as it is; because it is 
easier to accept, and believe in, one stupendous miracle, 
than in a multiplication of miracles. But each account is 
absurd, rejected by science, and unsustained by any evi- 
dence that would be held sufficient, in a court of law, to 
prove I had sold my horse to my next-door neighbor. 
Taking away the superstitious element, every part of which 
is the laughing-stock of the reasonable man, I am willing to 
admit the superiority of the Christian system. But I am 
not willing to admit that the Christian system is superior 
because of the supposed superiority of its reputed founder, 
of which I do not feel certain; but rather because it is the 
religion of the more enlightened nations of the world, who 
in their advancing stages, have cast off from their religious 
faith not a little of the superstitious element, and, no doubt, 
will yet cast off the balance. Religion is a central fact of 
man’s nature; and the fact that it is so, has enabled the 
priests of every religion to play upon the hopes and fears 
of their fellowmen, as a cat plays with a mouse; and cer- 
tainly to dupe their followers more than any lawyer ever 
attempted to dupe his client, or mislead the jury. When I 
say priests, I do not mean exclusively Christian priests; but 


264 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


I mean those of every faith and cult. There surely must 
be a truth in religion; and it is the feeling after this truth 
on the part of the human mind and heart, that has enabled 
the priests to foist, for their own benefit, upon their re- 
spective followers, the mass of miracles and other supersti- 
tions which so mar the beauty of the central truth, as to 
make it almost invisible. For my own part, I have long 
since given up attending church services. As a rule, I 
never go at all. If I go, I go more for the sake of the man, 
whom I may wish to oblige or assist, than for any faith I 
have in the divine character or even usefulness of the 
church. I believe in a Supreme Power who is made visible 
by his works; and that seeing his works, men have ever 
been, and probably will ever be, formulating theories about 
his nature, attributes, how He created the world, and how 
He leads the human race to a higher and better life. It 
seems to me that there must be a God who is the Creator, 
Savior, Redeemer, Sanctifier, and Father, of mankind; and 
I believe that man should endeavor, according to the best 
of his ability, to live a pure and righteous life. As to the 
question of immortality, I am not, and never expect to be, 
decided. I can say I have hope in it; I can not say I really 
believe in it. It has never been proved, I am certain, that 
man exists after death; it may never be proved. Still I can 
not see that it is irrational to hope for a future life; and I 
therefore hope in a life to come. I am called by many, 
foolish for indulging in such a hope; but for my part, I 
shall continue to remain in this hope, until some one proves 
to my satisfaction that I am in error. It costs me nothing, 
and does no harm to anybody else, so far as I can see. 
This is the sum total of my religion, Mr. Bray. I have no 
less; and I assure you, I want no more.” 

“With your religion, Mr. Judex, I have very little com- 
plaint to find; but do you not think it possible that, in judg- 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 265 

ing every priest you meet as a knave, or as false at heart, 
you do some of them a great injustice ?” 

“ Perhaps I do, Mr. Bray; but I think, as a whole, my 
judgment is correct. I am fully satisfied that ten out of 
any average eleven priests I may chance to meet, would re- 
ceive a righteous judgment.” 

“ But, Mr. Judex, do you not as a lawyer frequently say, 
that it is better to let ten guilty men escape than punish one 
innocent man ?” 

“ Yes, Mr. Bray; and that is the spirit of the law. Be- 
sides, I think it a wise and safe principle to act upon.” 

“ So do I, Mr. Judex; but in conformity with this 
principle, would it not be better to judge the next eleven 
priests you may chance to meet, as innocent men, thereby 
letting ten guilty ones escape, than judge them all as 
knaves, thereby accusing one innocent man ? ” 

“ I do not consider the cases exactly parallel, Mr. Bray. 
In the law we have to do with a world perfectly known to 
us all, and with courts of justice, and juries, before which 
we ourselves may at any time be brought. I hold there is 
nothing like this in the church: nothing there is positively 
known; all has to be taken on faith; and the whole faith, 
when accepted, goes to the fattening of the priests who are 
wolves in sheep’s clothing. In the law there is perfect im- 
partiality. If we would rather let ten guilty men escape 
than punish one innocent man, it is because we ourselves 
to-morrow might need the benefit we offer another to-day. 
In the one case the principle is acted upon for the safety 
and well-being of the citizens as a whole, living in a well 
known world; in the other case it would be acted upon for 
the safety and well-being of the priests who, in return for 
such privileges, can offer their dubious teachings about a 
world that no living being knows anything about, except 
the priests, and many of them are honest enough to admit 


2 66 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


their utter ignorance. I insist the cases are not parallel. 
In the law the principle acts with regard to all alike; in the 
church it would act especially, if not exclusively, for the 
benefit of the ecclesiastics. Again, I am not certain that the 
priests as a class do really add to the elevation of the 
world. That they do, I think is fairly to be questioned. 
Indeed, I have sometimes thought that their work ought to 
be abated as a nuisance. Because of this I do not think 
that they are worthy of the benefit of a doubt. You may 
say that you are certain they do accomplish good in many 
ways. All right; no one denies it. But are you certain 
they do not accomplish more harm in other ways ? This is 
the question. I hold that the work of the priest produces 
as much harm as good; and I believe it produces more.” 

“Mr. Judex, did you not say some time ago, that re- 
ligion is a central part of man’s nature ? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Bray, I did.” 

“ Can anything be more vital to one’s interest than the 
well-being of a central part of his nature ? ” 

“ I presume not.” 

“ Is it not necessary to the well-being of a central part of 
man’s nature, that such central part be guided aright, as it 
is developing ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Who is it that guides this central part except the 
priests ? ” 

“ The priests are the reputed guides: but I hold they are 
blind-guides leading the blind.” 

“ That is not the question, Mr. Judex. The question is, 
whose duty is it, to whom is the work regarded as belonging, 
to guide this central part of man’s nature ? ” 

“Well, of course, it is regarded as belonging to the 
priests; but I think it might be better developed without 
them. It couldn’t be much worse than it is.” 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


267 


“ If anything be essential to man’s happiness, would you 
not admit that that something should be taken cognizance 
of by the state ? ” 

“ I suppose that whatever is essential to one’s happiness, 
should be regarded as an object of the watchful care of the 
state.” 

“ Well, then, Mr. Judex, if you admit that religion is an 
essential part of man’s nature; that its proper guidance is 
essential to man’s happiness; that whatever is essential to 
man’s happiness, is a proper object of the watchful care of 
the state; and that the guidance of this central part of man’s 
nature, is generally regarded in the state as belonging to 
the priestly order, — do you not thereby admit that priests 
are proper objects of the watchful care of the state ? ” 

“ Well, as you put it, I guess I do.” 

“If then, Mr. Judex, priests are proper objects of the 
watchful care of the state, by what can they be guarded 
except by the law of the state ?” 

“ I presume if the state doesn’t protect them, nothing 
else will ; for St. Joseph and the Virgin Mary won’t do it.” 

“But, Mr. Judex, if the priests, as you say, are to be 
guarded by the laws of the state, would it not be according 
to law, to treat them as you treat the rest of the citizens, and 
give them the benefit of a doubt.” 

“ Supposing I admit that, what then ?” 

« It seems to me, Mr. Judex, it would follow that you 
should regard the next eleven priests you may chance to 
meet, as you would regard any other eleven citizens of the 
state, and suppose them all innocent men, even if by so doing 
you let ten guilty knaves escape, rather than suppose them 
all guilty, and thereby possibly accuse one innocent priest.” 

“You are good at splitting hairs, Mr. Bray. You may 
have made your point, but you have not changed my mind a 
particle in regard to priests as a whole.” 


268 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ Mr. Judex, you must not suppose that I have any too 
high regard for priests. I assure you my experience has led 
me to think of them as anything else but gods. But they 
are a class of men we find existing in the world, and in the 
state, as far back as our knowledge extends ; and even when 
real knowledge of their existence fades away, there are still 
traces left of the presence of priests, or medicine-men.” 

“ Then you class priests with medicine-men, do you, Mr. 
Bray ?” 

“Their work is certainly similar, Mr. Judex, although as 
classes the two have become differentiated. You might say 
that medicine-men are infant priests, or that the both bodies 
are sub-orders of the same order.” 

“ Well, Mr. Bray, with your definition of a priest, I think 
I can afford to give the poor brute the benefit of a doubt. I 
will have in mind your definition, when I see the next priest 
entering on his incantations.” 

“ All right, sir ; that is all I ask. I can now talk with 
you, and believe that you regard me as a sincere man, and 
that you will continue so to regard me, until you have posi- 
tive knowledge that I am not. You have sometimes come 
to the services, since I have been here ; and as you come 
in the future, I should certainly feel very uncomfortable to 
look into your face, did I think in my heart that you thought 
me insincere. It is for this reason that I have spoken as I 
have, that I might lead you to admit what you have 
admitted.” 

“ I do not think that anybody, in this town, could regard 
you as insincere. You are too out-spoken for that. If one 
thing more than another has brought me to hear you preach, 
it is my belief that you in heart and soul are sincere. But 
you must not forget, that you do not preach as others do ; 
your doctrine is radically different. If it were not so, I 
would not come to hear you, however sincere you might be; 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 269 

for I should then regard you as a sincere dupe ; and with 
such I have lost too much time already.” 

“Do not forget, Mr. Judex, that the next eleven priests 
you meet, are to be treated, as you treat other men.” 

“ I have already promised you, Mr. Bray, I will give the 
poor wretches the benefit of a doubt.” 

“What you have said of Buddha, Mr. Judex, is highly 
interesting. I have not much to say with regard to it, except 
that I have no faith whatever in the divine nature of the 
great teacher. I do not say, however, that he may not have 
come into the world with a mission to perform, nor do I 
deny that he may have performed it rightly and wisely, 
under the guidance of God. I think this is possible. And 
I am also willing to admit, that I can not see on what ground 
the Christian priest expects to preach the divinity of Christ 
to the Buddhists, if he refuses the proof the Buddhist priest 
adduces for the divinity of Buddha. It does appear to me 
that in character and value the evidence adduced to prove 
the divinity of the one, is similar to that adduced to prove 
the divinity of the other. I candidly believe that, were I a 
Buddhist, the Christian priests would find it impossible, to 
make me believe in the divinity of Christ, on the evidence 
they adduce in support of it.” 

“ Then you do not believe in the divinity of Christ, as I 
understand, Mr. Bray.” 

“I can not say, Mr. Judex, that I really disbelieve in 
Christ’s divinity ; but I must say that I feel quite uncertain, 
quite unsatisfied, concerning it. And I believe with my 
whole soul, from my knowledge of priests, that the pulpits 
are full of men who feel unsatisfied as to Christ’s divinity ; 
and I am certain that there always have been very earnest 
and learned followers of Christ, who have refused to accept 
his divinity, or regard him in any other light than as a man 
with a divine commission. I can not but admit with you that 


270 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


the miracles of the New Testament are unsubstantiated. 
Indeed, I do not believe it possible to substantiate a miracle 
with any less than direct and miraculous evidence. As to 
the internal evidence of the New Testament for Christ’s 
divinity, I can not see how it can be satisfactory. How do 
we know that a mere man could not have produced the pre- 
cepts of the New Testament? If the mind of a mere man is 
capable of understanding these precepts, it would seem to 
follow that the mind of a mere man might have been their 
author. But more than this, I can not find any principle in 
the New Testament, radically different from those found 
elsewhere. It is true, that certain principles are more 
enlarged upon, brought more to the light ; but nothing can 
be found in the New Testament radically new. In other 
words, all the principles of the New Testament have cer- 
tainly been produced by human authors, because they are 
known to have been current long before Christianity was 
established. The fatherhood of God, rewards and punish- 
ments, immortality, heaven and hell, prayer and sacrifice, 
priest and temple, penitence and divine forgiveness, the 
sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit, the duty of man to 
man and to God, — all these principles were taught long 
before the advent of Christ, and by people other than the 
so-called elect. I do not believe, therefore, it is possible to 
prove conclusively the divinity of Christ from the contents 
of the New Testament, nor by miracles except by direct and 
miraculous evidence. But although I do not believe that 
the divinity of Christ has ever been established, I am un- 
willing to say that Christ is not divine; I simply say his 
divine nature has never been proved.” 

“ When you speak, Mr. Bray, of the fact that the divine 
nature of Christ has never been established, I can not help 
thinking how false the position of the minister is, and how 
greatly he misrepresents the truth of things. If a man says 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


271 


he has never seen any proof of Christ’s divinity, the average 
minister’s reply is, ‘ That, sir, was given to the apostles long 
ago, and we have their testimony for it.’ I reply that the 
people who lived contemporaneously with Christ, did not 
believe in his divinity. This fact is proved to a certainty 
from the fact that they put him to death. What man that 
ever lived, or ever may live, would attempt to put a being to 
death, believing him at the same time to be God ? Jesus 
Christ was accused of blasphemy. This accusation, how- 
ever unjustly founded, proves the case that his accusers did 
not believe in his divinity. The minister says, * His divin- 
ity was proved through certain select men.’ I answer, 
what a shame to use such beggarly language ! Was the 
God of the universe so weak that He could not satisfy his 
children’s rational demands ? Does God desire that his 
children should worship every being declaring himself to be 
God ? Now a man must either worship or not worship 
every such being; and since to worship a being in human 
form, or any other form, who is not really God, would be 
a most grievous sin, I hold it would be an offence against 
the majesty of God, to worship any being declaring himself 
to be God, unless the man asked to worship him, be given 
such proof of his divine nature, as he can not doubt. This 
is all the people asked who lived contemporaneously with 
Christ. Did they receive such proof of Christ’s divinity ? 
It is wicked to say they did, when it is admitted that Christ 
was put to death; and that even his own disciples, through 
fear, fled from his side, and with oaths denied him. It 
seems to me Celsus, even from the garbled account we have 
of his work, would make shorter work of the ministers of to- 
day, than he made of the ministers who lived at the time of 
his writing. I am sure that neither Jew nor Gentile would 
have crucified Christ, if he had been satisfied of Christ’s 
divine nature. Who would dare lay his hands upon whom 


272 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


he believed to be the infinite God ? Says Celsus, the Jew, 
writing in the second century, and admitted by Origen to 
have been a learned man: ‘ How should we deem him to be 
God, who not only in other respects, as was currently re- 
ported, performed none of his promises, but who also, after 
we had convicted him, and condemned him as deserving of 
punishment, was found guilty of attempting to conceal him- 
self, and endeavoring to escape in a most disgraceful 
manner, and who was betrayed by those whom he called 
disciples. He who was God could neither flee nor be led 
away prisoner. He who was a partaker at a man’s table, 
would not conspire against him; and if he would not con- 
spire against a man, much less would he plot against a 
God, after banqueting with him. And, which is still more 
absurd, God himself conspired against those who sat at his 
table, by converting them into traitors and impious men. 
What great deeds did Jesus perform as being God, having 
gained no one over during his life, not even his own dis- 
ciples, underwent those punishments and suffering? By 
what train of argument were you led ,to regard him as the 
Son of God? If Jesus desired to show that his power was 
really divine, he ought to have appeared to those who ill- 
treated him, and to him who had condemned him, and to 
all men universally. While alive he was of no assistance to 
himself, but when dead he arose again, and showed the 
marks of his punishment, and how his hands were pierced 
with nails. Who beheld this ? A half-frantic woman, as 
you state, and some other one, perhaps, of those who were 
engaged in the same system of delusion, who had either 
dreamed so, owing to a peculiar state of the mind, or under 
the influence of a wandering imagination, had formed to 
himself an appearance according to his own wishes, which 
has been the case with numberless individuals; or, which 
is most probable, one who desired to impress others with 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


273 


this portent, and by such falsehood to furnish an occasion 
to impostors like himself. From such signs and misrepre- 
sentations, and from proofs so mean, no one could prove 
him to be God, and the Son of God. The disciples of 
Jesus, having no undoubted fact upon which to rely, de- 
vised the fiction that he foreknew everything before it hap- 
pened. And certain Christians have corrupted the Gospel 
from its original purity to a threefold, and fourfold, and 
many-fold degree, and have remodelled it, so that they 
might be able to answer objections. Even although guilty 
of falsehood, ye have not been able to give a color of cred- 
ibility to your inventions.’ Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. 
Bray: I love the name of Jesus, and believe he was a 
blessed man, a loving brother, a faithful teacher, and one 
worthy to be a leader of men; but I do not believe that he 
was God, or that he ever claimed to be, however much he 
may have been understood as making such claim. It also 
seems that most of the objections of Celsus, the learned 
Jew, are valid ones. They are just such as a learned man, 
in my opinion, would make to-day. I say nothing deroga- 
tory of the character of Christ; but I say what Celsus said, 
and which I think Christ would say : if a man wishes to 
show that he is God, he must prove his divine nature uni- 
versally, and by such miraculous works, as can not leave 
room for doubt. I may be called a heretic, but that is 
nothing to me; so was Christ, so was Socrates. Even 
Origen, the very man who undertook to answer Celsus, and 
who was undoubtedly the most learned of all the early 
Christians, was called a heretic, and, in the year 231, de- 
graded from the priesthood, and excommunicated by the 
bishop of Alexandria, and never afterwards restored. So 
if I am called a heretic, I shall find myself in the best of 
company. But speaking with regard to yourself, Mr. Bray, 

18 


274 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


does not your church hold the divinity of Christ as one of 
its fundamental dogmas ? ” 

“ I believe it does, Mr. Judex. In my teaching I do not 
deny the divinity of Christ ; but I am inclined to make little 
of such a dogma, by magnifying others far more important.” 

“ The teaching of the church, Mr. Bray, about the divin- 
ity of Christ, is insulting to the mind of man. What man, 
do you suppose, would refuse to believe what God declares, 
if he were sure that God declares it ? And if God declares 
his will in a way which makes it uncertain to man, man cer- 
tainly can not be blamed for not believing it. But since I 
can not believe that anything faulty ever came from God, I 
do not believe that God ever gave such unsatisfactory proof 
as we have for the divinity of Christ ; nor do I believe that 
a thing having so unsatisfactory credentials, as the New 
Testament has, could ever come directly from God.” 

“ If the doubts I now have, Mr. Judex, ever grow into a 
positive conviction that Christ is not God, I will give up the 
work I am now engaged in ; but until then I can not see but 
that I should go on, and do as Christ did, — not talk of his 
divinity, but lead men to a better and purer life, and to God, 
as the fountain of all goodness and truth. I am like you, 
much dissatisfied with the proof we have of Christ’s divine 
conception, unsatisfied with the proof of the so-called vir- 
ginity of his mother ; and it seems to me the probability 
against these things, can never be overcome by such 
evidence as we have in our possession. Still, I think it is 
right enough to call his mother a virgin, since every pure 
mother may be so called ; and as the mother of our great 
leader, I see no impropriety in styling her, the Virgin Mary. 
In the New Testament, even pure men are called virgins. 
So I can say, ‘ Born of the Virgin Mary,’ since I undoubt- 
edly believe that Christ had, at least, a pure mother called 
Mary, the lawful wife of an honest father. But while I 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


275 


believe this much of Christ, of anything more I am in doubt. 
You will understand me therefore: I do not deny Christ’s 
divine nature, I do declare I feel uncertain of it. When 
you see me in the services, and hear me preach, I only ask, 
Mr. Judex, that you believe you see and hear an honest, 
earnest soul who would lay his life down for what he was 
sure was God’s truth. While I am with you, I hope you will 
help me build up men in a wise and rational faith, at the 
same time leading them to a better and higher life.” 

“ I shall certainly do what I can to help you, Mr. Bray. 
I am only sorry I can’t do more. 

“ Talking of priests, allow me to ask, if you have heard 
what happened here a year or so ago ?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Well, we had one here who was found guilty of having 
most improper relations with several of the Sisters. We 
demanded of the bishop the priest’s removal ; but he refused 
to comply with our demand. The citizens of the town there- 
upon arose in their indignation, and were about to tar and 
feather the priest, when he fled from the place. What 
became of him, we do not know ; but it is to be presumed 
that the bishop sent him elsewhere to begin his operations 
anew. I tell you, Mr. Bray, I believe that no body of men 
live lower or falser lives than priests.” 

“ I can not say I agree with you, Mr. Judex, but I do not 
believe that their lives are any purer or holier than the lives 
of other men who have similar social standing. An intimate 
knowledge of priests has not increased my respect for their 
order ; but I do not believe that, as men, they are at heart 
worse than others.” 

“ I don’t agree with you, Mr. Bray. I am certain that the 
percentage of priests who commit crimes, is greater than that 
of any other profession.” 

“ I have my doubts of what you say, Mr. Judex. But 


276 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


even if it were so, might it not follow from their greater 
temptation ? and would it not be safer to take this ground, 
than say they are more corrupt at heart.” 

“ I am inclined to give the devil his due, Mr. Bray ; and, 
I suppose, I must give you yours. It is, as I see, very late ; 
and I must be going. Some day we may have the pleasure 
of renewing our conversation. Good night, sir.” 

Mr. Judex had no sooner left the house, than my mother, 
who was at that time visiting us, said : 

“ My son, I am surprised ! Mr. Judex doesn’t believe in 
Christ ; does he ?” 

“ Mother,” I replied, “ it will depend on what you mean 
when you say, ‘ believe in Christ.’ If you mean to ask, 
whether Mr. Judex believes that Christ is God Almighty, I 
answer, he does not ; but if you mean to ask, whether he 
believes that Christ was a pure and noble man sent into the 
world to teach you and me how to live a better life, and pre- 
pare for a better state, I answer, he does.” 

“ Yes, my son ; but are we not told that, unless we believe 
that Christ is God, we can not enter the kingdom of heaven ?” 

“ We sometimes hear such words, or their equivalent, 
from the pulpits of the land, mother, without doubt ; but 
when Mr. Gill told us, a little before he left for South 
America, that he had seen the devil and several of his imps, 
did you really believe his word ?” 

“ No, my son, but that was the saying of one man, and 
said only fora short time; whereas the other is said by so 
very many, and for such a long time.” 

“ Because of the fact that millions of people, for 
thousands of years, have believed in witches and wizards, 
do you therefore believe in their existence ? ” 

“ No, my son; but then — ” 

“ There is no ‘ but then ’ about it, mother. That should 
show you plainly enough that the simple saying of things, 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


277 


does not prove their truth. If the preachers make such as- 
sertions, that does not prove that such assertions are 
founded upon truth.” 

“ But, my dear son, is it not so said in the Scriptures ? ” 

“ Different constructions are put on the same passages 
of Scripture, mother. I do not deny that passages, taken 
by some to mean just what you say, are found in the New 
Testament. As for myself, I do not believe that the New 
Testament anywhere teaches that Christ is God Almighty; 
and if I thought it did so teach, it would only still more 
lessen my faith in its authoritative character.” 

“ But, my son, when we pray to Christ, does that not 
prove that Christ is God ? ” 

“ By no means, mother. When the heathen falls down 
before his stone-image, does that prove that the image is 
inhabited by God ? Our praying to Christ does not prove 
that Christ is God, for such a prayer may not be warranted. 
The Episcopal Church has but few prayers addressed to 
Christ. We pray to God, addressing to Him our petitions, 
or whatever it may be, through Jesus Christ. This does not 
make Jesus Christ the object of prayer, but rather the car- 
rier; or, if you prefer it, the person through whom we have 
access to God. Provided Jesus Christ and God Almighty be 
one and the same Being, a man who prays to Jesus Christ, 
would certainly be praying to God; but if they are not one 
and the same Being, would the man then be praying to 
God ?” 

“No, my son, certainly not; but then — ” 

“ Yes, mother, I understand; but let me ask you to cease 
using such phrases as ‘ but then.’ Very much danger lurks 
in the use of such sayings. They are blind guides which 
lead those who follow them into the ditch; they are dark 
words containing no light. Continuing what I was saying: 
if a man should pray to God, and Jesus Christ and God Al- 


278 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


mighty be one and the same Being, would not the man, in 
that case, be praying also to Jesus Christ ? ” 

“Of course, my son, he would.” 

“ If a man prays to God Almighty, and Jesus Christ and 
God Almighty are not one and the same Being, would the 
man not be still praying to God ? ” 

“Certainly, my son: how could it be otherwise. If a 
man prays to God, he prays to God.” 

“ So I think, mother. I therefore think the only safe 
rule a man can act upon in prayer is to pray to the Being 
whom we know to be God, or about whose deity there can 
be no question. Whether Jesus Christ be God or no, I know 
not. That he is not God, I know is the belief of the large 
majority of thinking men, and of all the adherents of the 
other world-wide religions. Of one thing I am sure, and 
that is, no satisfactory evidence, to establish his divinity, has 
ever been presented me. I know, on the other hand, that I 
am, that the sun rules the day, and the moon the night; and 
I declare that I firmly believe there must be a Power, con- 
scious, immanent, a Power in, through, and more than, all 
things; the Power through which, and by which, all things 
are. To this Power I pray, and, when I pray, my soul is 
not torn with misgivings as to whether the object of my 
prayer is God or not. For I am certain there is nothing 
greater, wider, deeper, mightier, purer, truer, more change- 
less, or more abiding, than the Power to which I pray. I 
pray, then, knowing, without one doubt, that if there is a 
God, which I doubt not, to that God I am praying. Such 
a prayer is not directed to a person whose deity has ever 
been the subject of dispute, and is denied by hundreds of 
millions; but to Him whom the universal voice of adoring 
humanity declares to be God. Let you and me, mother, 
pray and hope, strive and conquer; but when we pray, let us 
be sure that we pray to God. If we wish to pray to Jesus, 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


279 


I see no reason why we can’t, since I think it possible for 
the saints to hear us. If they could help us when on earth 
with their prayers, why can they not help us in heaven? But 
this is a question concerning which I can not speak with any 
definite knowledge: all is supposition.” 

“ But, my dear son, do you remember when your dear 
father died, how, with his finger pointing to the wall, he 
cried, ‘See, Lavinia, see the precious blood of Jesus!’ 
Could your dear father die so happy, unless Christ was 
God?” 

“ My dear mother, you know how dear my father, while 
living, was to me, and how sweet his memory is to me to- 
day. But how many thousands of heathens have hurled 
themselves into the funeral-fires, rejoicing at the thought 
that their spirits were about to accompany those of their 
friends to the skies ? How many thousands have thrown 
themselves under the heavy wheels of the car of their god, 
expecting through such immolation a more abundant reward ! 
Because they did these things, do you therefore say they 
acted reasonably, or that their expectations were founded 
upon truth ?” 

“No, my son; but — ” 

“I have already spoken, mother, of the use of ‘but,’ and 
said it is a dangerous word to use. The truth is: as a man 
thinketh in his heart, so is he. No matter what a man be- 
lieves; if it be a comforting belief, and he have no doubt, 
he will die with a shout. Thus we find Mohammedans, 
Buddhists, Brahmins, Christians, and even the American In- 
dian on the eve of entering the Happy Hunting-Ground, all 
dying with a shout, each alike satisfied that, as Socrates said, 
he is about to be ‘ released from a prison as it were.’ That 
a man dies happy in his faith, is no proof whatever that he 
does not die deceived. When you are at home in Eudoxia, 
you might be happy to-day, at the thought of setting out to 


280 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


visit me tb-morrow, when, at the same time, I might have 
died yesterday, without your knowing it. But it would be 
all the same to you, as long as you imagined I was living. 
My father lived a good life ; he was a child of God. As 
such the Father took him, whether his faith was such as it 
should have been or not. It is the heart that God looks to 
— the intention, more than to the form of words. If God 
should now ask me, ‘ what art thou ? ’ what could I answer, 
but ‘ a poor, wandering, erring child looking for Thee, my 
Father;* but if He should ask me, ‘what wilt thou?’ I 
should say, ‘perfect conformity to Thy will, my God.* It 
is the latter expression, in my judgment, that God delights 
to hear; for what are we in Go.d’s sight, no matter how pure 
and holy, but weakness and error ! Thus with my dear 
father: the confession he made, when dying, was valuable, 
not so much for what it showed him to be, as for what it 
showed he wished to be. No soul, mother, who longs to get 
nearer to God, can ever be cast out from His presence.” 

“ My dear son, you make things very plain to your aged 
mother, although I can’t reason with you. Many things 
you say are very strange to me. Your mother loves to hear 
you talk ; you remove the mists that hang before my eyes a 
great deal.” 

“ I am glad, my dear mother, that you are able to say so 
much. God grant that you may never have cause to 
say worse. I wish I could remove the mists from the eyes 
of thousands who are nearly blinded with superstition and 
error. But it is hard, mother, to make a man believe that 
his household gods are not the great powers he supposed 
them to be; hard to make a man think that the faith of his 
childhood is not true. But thousands are falling all around 
us from the faith they once held, as leaves from the tree in 
autumn. It is impossible that men should continue, in the 
light of reason and science, to believe much longer the 


A GREAT TEMPTATION, 


281 


faith of their childhood. It is honey-combed, rotten, 
crumbling away. It is dying, and I say, let it die, and be 
gathered to its fathers, the superstitions of the past ages. But 
it dies hard: preachers and theologians are prescribing new 
remedies; but the old faiths have an incurable disease: they 
are unreasonable; they must and will die.” 

About the middle of June, 1881, I attended the diocesan 
convention. While there I received a letter from a lady 
communicant of a certain parish, stating that the minister 
and people of that parish wished me to stay over Sunday 
with them, that they longed to hear me preach, and that she 
would take it upon herself to entertain me, and make my 
visit an agreeable one. I was very unwilling at first to com- 
ply, for I could not bear the thought of prolonging my 
absence three more days from my beloved Mabel; but be- 
lieving it would be to the interests of my family, I finally 
complied. I arrived at the residence of the lady on Friday 
evening. The evening was spent in playing croquet, and in 
other social amusements, and the night brought me most re- 
freshing slumber. The next day I called, in company with 
my hostess, on the minister of the parish, who appeared de- 
lighted to see me, and renewed his invitation for me to 
preach for him on the following Sunday. I also learned 
from him, that the coming Sunday was the regular day for 
the celebration of the holy eucharist. The minister was a 
pleasant gentleman of fair education, but much addicted to 
the use of liquor; his wife was a lovely lady, the mother of 
a large family who gave her their constant and affectionate 
obedience. 

The lady at whose house I had been invited to stay, was 
a married woman, about middle life, and childless. Her 
husband who was about thirty-five years older than she, was 
absent on business, and was not expected to return for sev- 


282 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


eral days. He was considered a comparatively wealthy 
man. 

Saturday evening the lady entered the parlor, where I 
was hard at work, intent on my subject for the following 
day. Taking a seat opposite, she entered into conversation 
with me for a few minutes, when she arose from her seat, 
and sat by my side, upon the sofa. 

I could not help thinking, as she sat by my side, how 
greatly the lady was indebted to nature: she was beautifully 
formed, and fair to look upon; no tree in the garden of 
paradise could have borne much more desirable fruit. She 
soon appeared greatly agitated, and I asked her if she was 
unwell, and if I should go for a physician. 

“ I have only a litttle dizziness, thank you,” she said. “ I 
am in no need of a physician; I shall be all right again, in 
a few moments.” 

Her pallor and constant restlessness surprised me; and 
I asked again, if she was ill, and if I should call a physi- 
cian. 

“ Excuse me a moment, Mr. Bray, and I shall be all 
right. It is only one of my old spells that I have; let 
me rest a little with you, and I shall soon be over it.” 

It was not long before I could not fail to interpret her 
thoughts which were all but fully expressed in her actions. 

“ Mrs. X,” I said, “ I am sorry you are so unwell; but the 
medicine you would take for the disease, would not effect a 
cure. To-morrow I assist in the celebration of the holy 
eucharist. How could I put those elements into your hands, 
and say those solemn words, if I should know, at that time, 
that things had been, as you now would have them be? 
How could I look into the faces of the congregation, when 
reading the commandments, were I guilty of such an act ! 
The thought of the past would so condemn me, that I 
should be unable to proceed.” 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


283 


“Excuse me, Mr. Bray,” she replied; “you know I am 
too good a friend to you, to do you an injury. I am sure 
Rev. Z wouldn’t think as you do about it. I wouldn’t for 
the world be the cause of stumbling to you; but I can’t see 
why you think so differently about some things, from other 
ministers.” 

“ Mrs. X,” I said, “ it would be a sin against my wife, and 
a sin against myself in robbing me of a clear conscience. It 
would also be a sin against your husband.” 

“ It may be wrong, Mr. Bray ; but I think you overstate 
the matter. It is true enough that I have what is called a 
husband ; but God knows the man I have is no husband to 
me. I am about thirty-five, he is about seventy. My desires 
are one thing, his desires are another. We have nothing in 
common. I declare I have no husband in the sight of God, 
whatever I may be said to have in the sight of man.” 

“ I am very sorry, indeed, “I replied, “to hear you speak 
of your unfortunate condition ; yet the man is, in the sight 
of the law, your husband. But apart from that, you would 
to-morrow repent of your act to-night ; and I am sure I 
should be ashamed to look into the face of my pure and 
noble wife again. Women to me are lovely beings, God’s 
angels sent here to lighten the dark pathway of man. No 
true man could permit her to fall from her high estate, 
through any indiscretion on his part.” 

“ I think,” she replied, “ that in such matters you look 
too much on the dark side of things. If certain things con- 
tribute to our well-being, I can not understand where the 
harm is in taking such pleasure, provided in doing so we do 
no injury to others ; and I can not see why others can be 
injured by what they know absolutely nothing about.” 

“Whether they knew it or not,” I answered, “we should 
know it. You would be my slave, I should be yours. Nor 
would their ignorance of such an act, affect its great injus- 


284 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

tice. I am thankful to you, Mrs. X, for your great con- 
fidence ; but I am fully persuaded that you are not exactly 
yourself to-night, and with your permission, I will retire, 
and let you take your rest. I believe you have overworked 
yourself to-day.” 

About two o’clock in the morning I was awoke out of a 
sound slumber by the presence of some one by my side. A 
single touch from my wife would always electrify me ; so I 
turned, as I thought, to speak to her, when I was surprised 
to find that the person by my side was no other than Mrs. X. 

“ Mrs. X,” I said, “ why could you possibly risk doing 
what you have done ! What has befallen you ! What injury 
has my wife done you, that you should seek to do her so 
great injustice ! What have I done, that you would thus 
make me live ashamed of myself, ashamed of your husband, 
ashamed of you !” 

“Oh, Mr. Bray,” she said, “ I fear that you, not under- 
standing me, must think me very wicked. Before you judge 
me worse than I am, let me tell you my story: 

“ When I \^as but a young girl, I married my first hus- 
band, a true and noble man. We both made one flesh in 
deed, and in truth. He went to the war ; and so dear was 
he to me, that I accompanied him. He was by profession a 
physician and surgeon. It was but a short time before he was 
slain. Words can not express the intense happiness I 
experienced, during the few days of my married life. I 
remained a widow for many years, and would to God I had 
continued so to this day ! but thinking the money of the man 
who is now called my husband, would bring me happiness, I 
finally consented to marry him. As in the case of my first 
marriage I could not tell you my intense happiness, so now 
I can not tell you my utter misery: it is so deep, so black, 
so lasting. I really hate the thought of my husband’s 
return ; the only pleasure I have is in his absence. He is 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


285 


neither now, nor was he ever, calculated to make any woman 
happy. I am sure you can not but pity me, from what I 
have told you ; and if you knew the whole you would pity 
me much more. 

“ To make matters worse, Mr. Bray, ever since I saw you 
the first time in Bethabara, I have envied your wife, envied 
her happiness, and continually longed for your presence. It 
is this ever-present feeling that led me to devise this plan 
for getting you here. I have a good deal of influence with 
our minister, and I asked him to invite you here ; and he 
consented to oblige me. I thought if I could only get you 
near me, I should be satisfied. I wish I was never born.” 

“ My dear, Mrs. X,” I said, “you are older than I am, 
and should have known better than to search for diamonds 
where they are never known to be found. But I am truly 
sorry for you, sorry that your condition is such as you repre- 
sent it. But to do as you would have me do, would be but 
to add to your sense of misery. The remedy you would 
apply to your disease, is not real, but apparent only. It 
would induce another disease even worse than that to which 
you are now subject. May God help you, and, in his own 
way, deliver you ; but if you really think well of me, and 
desire my prosperity, you should spare me this great tempta- 
tion ; for you can not but know, that it is fraught with very 
great danger. No, Mrs. X, for your sake, for my wife’s 
sake, for the sake of all concerned, it can not be, it must not 
be ! It is now fast approaching morning. Your servants 
will soon be stirring. Let me beg you to depart, before they 
have the possible opportunity of thinking evil. Under such 
circumstances, where there is no real evil done, the world 
would suppose it.” 

She being unwilling to comply with my request, or, at 
least, not executing it, I arose, opened the door, and said : 

“ Hasten, Mrs. X, before it be too late. Go, and I am 


286 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


sure you will be glad, before noon comes, that things are as 
they are.” 

On coming down to breakfast, as I entered the parlor, 
and before I was aware of her presence, she kissed me, and 
stepping backward said: 

“ My God ! Now can I say I have known and seen a 
holy man !” 

“Are you not glad,” I asked, “that things are as they 
are ?” 

“Please, do not ask me,” she replied; “I am just as 
weak as ever. But one thing I know: say what the world 
may, there is such a thing as a pure and holy man; and may 
God have mercy on me, and cure me of my weakness.” 

When I arrived home, I related to my wife my experi- 
ence ; but neither my wife, nor any other person, has ever 
heard from my lips the name of the unfortunate lady. After 
Mabel had heard the story of my terrible temptation, she 
kissed me, and said : 

“ You darling Harry ! Your Mabel is so glad that you 
are safe at home again ; but it is a lasting shame to that 
woman. Still, poor thing ! nobody knows her trouble.” 

I thought, how great was my reward ! My wife, my life, 
had looked out of her large black eyes, with an earnest look 
penetrating to my. very soul ; and over her countenance 
there passed an expression which said, in language plainer 
than words : “Well done, good 'and faithful servant ! Thou 
hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler 
over much.” 

“ Harry,” said Mabel, “ do you know I have found such a 
nice name for the baby ! If you are willing, I want to have 
her called Theresa Howe.” 

“ All right, my darling,” I replied; “ if you wish it, let that 
be her name. I think it is a very pretty one.” 

“She was born July 19th, Harry, and next Sunday is the 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 


287 


2 1st of August, when she will be a little more than a month 
old. Supposing we have her baptized then. I think it would 
be so proper to have her baptized, while dear old mother is 
with us. Will you baptize her next Sunday ?” 

“ Yes, darling, if you wish it,” I replied. 

“ Mabel, my darling wife,” I continued, “you know that 
lately I have had less rest than ever, the conflict within 
being sometimes almost agonizing. The truth is, the things 
I saw and heard at our last convention, made me more than 
ever determined to take my intended course in law. It is 
true I may never practice the legal profession ; but my 
mind is so much beclouded, and I am so much disgusted 
with the ways of clergymen in general, that I will at least 
take a complete rest for a couple of years. By passing two 
years at a law-school, I should be fully prepared in the 
legal part of my examinations for the degree of doctor of 
laws ; and I should have sufficient time to come to a full 
decision as to whether I should continue any longer in this 
faith or not.” 

“ What did you see and hear at the convention, Harry, 
that should give you fresh disturbance ? ” 

“ I saw and heard many things, Mabel, which convinced 
me that clergymen are no better than other mortals ; I will 
not as yet say they are worse, but I am sure they are no 
better. I went to the bishop’s reception, during the even- 
ing. While standing in the hall, the Rev. Wineman came 
up to me. There was no other person present. Putting 
his hand into his pocket, he drew forth what he called some 
‘ fine old Irish whiskey,’ and invited me to drink. I thanked 
him, but declined. 

“ The Sunday following the convention, I passed, as you 
know, with another clergyman. It was communion-day, but 
only seven or eight persons remained to commune. Although 
the number to partake was thus small, the Rev. gentleman 


288 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


consecrated wine enough, I should say, for forty. A person 
might charitably think, it was simply a mistake with him, 
but not so ; for he did not make a similar mistake in the 
amount of bread he consecrated. When all had communed, 
and the Gloria in Excelsis had been sung, and while we 
were on our knees, awaiting the blessing of this so-called 
minister of Christ, I saw, and heard him gulp down the 
wine, as a drunken Dutchman drinks his lager. I really 
thought he would choke himself. Even this did not suffice 
him ; for as soon as we had entered the vestry, he took the 
bottle containing the holy-communion wine, and drank more. 
Oh, Mabel ! I was shocked at such irreverence ; and I was 
disgusted at such indecency. That such a man should call 
himself a messenger of the most high God, is enough to 
make the blood of a pure and noble man run cold." 

“ I sometimes think, Harry, that it is a good thing that 
people don’t see the hearts of the men who stand in the 
chancel. I fear if they did, the cry ‘exeant sacerdotes,’ 
would soon go forth.” 

“ I can thank God for one thing, Mabel ; I can say, as 
you know, that I am what I am. As I have thought in my 
heart, so have I been in the chancel. My lips have always 
declared the thoughts of my soul. I do not know how to 
dissemble. The doubts and fears of my breast fall from my 
lips, as it were steeped in the blood of my heart; and as they 
fall, the people see them.” 

“Your Mabel and everybody else, darling, know that as 
you think, so you preach. You have even explained the 
creed to the people in a way that makes it the symbol of a 
natural rather than a miraculous faith.” 

“ And I think in doing so, Mabel, I have done my duty ; 
and may God direct my weary feet, and calm my beating 
heart. But though the heavens fall, and melt with fervent 


A GREAT TEMPTATION. 289 

heat, and I go up with the smoke, yet will I not be false to 
myself, — I will go up as an offering to the truth.” 

“ Yes, Harry ; and it is far better to be a particle of such 
sweet-smelling smoke, than to be a man chained to a dogma, 
and conscious of insincerity and falsehood.” 

“ All right, darling. Then if I go up, you will accompany 
me, will you ? ” 

“ Wherever Harry goes, Mabel is with him ; for one day 
in thy courts, my husband, is better than a thousand.” 

*' O woman ! thou art God’s true high-priest, his faithful 
prophet and preacher, and his most blessed angel ! Without 
thee the sun does lose its heat, the earth its greenness, and 
the heart its potent hope.” 

“ Harry,” she said, “ you are the greatest flatterer that 
ever lived. Whv don’t you call me Mother Eve, and have 
done with it.” 

“ For many reasons, darling, not the least being the fact 
that while Eve led her husband astray, you have always 
helped to keep me in the path of righteousness.” 

“Keep you in the path of righteousness, Harry ! Your 
Mabel knows too well that she was never worthy of you.” 

“ My darling wife ! thy soul is as beautiful as thy body. 
Forget not that the purest in heart feels deepest his 
humility.” 

On the 27th day of August we left forever the quiet little 
town of Bethabara, my dear mother going to Eudoxia, in the 
state of Greeley, and we to the state of Jefferson, to visit 
Mabel’s parents, prior to our moving to the city of Acropolis, 
Greeley, where I had determined to pursue my legal studies. 


19 


CHAPTER X. 


STUDY THE LAW. 

After staying about five weeks with Mabel’s parents, we 
set out for Acropolis, Greeley, where the state university is 
located; and on the 7th October, I paid the fees, and was 
admitted a student in the legal course. 

While in this institution, I labored very hard to acquire 
a thorough knowledge of the law. In addition to my at- 
tendance on the daily lectures given by the various mem- 
bers of the legal faculty, my private, legal reading amounted 
to about seventy-five pages a day, for the two years I was at 
the school; for during that time, I read not less than 
seventy text-books, each containing about six hundred 
pages. My superior knowledge of the law was recognized 
by a great number of young men who made me their quiz- 
master, on all occasions when the school was not in session. 
I was much delighted with the study of the law. In it I 
found something real, not imaginary; something tangible, 
not a ghost. I saw in it a true photograph of humanity, 
an epitome of human struggles for a higher social life. 
Having only to do with the world that is, it contains no 
imaginary factors. Says Aristotle: 

“ Pavspov on nov <pu<reL ij iroXcs eart xat 6 ti avOpwiros yuan 
TzoXtnxov C (pov — It is evident that the city is the natural 
out-come of these things, and that man by nature is a po- 
litical animal.” (Repub. 1, 2, 9.) Law is therefore as 
much the proper product of human development, as the 
rose is the natural result of the development of the rose- 
tree. By the study of the law my admiration for ecclesias- 

290 


STUDY THE LAW. 


291 


ticism was diminished, rather than increased; for it is, in the 
relation of the church to the state, that the base cunning 
and intrigue of ecclesiastics are most brought to light. 
What the church has not been able to accomplish by what 
it has been pleased to call, “ the power of the Holy Ghost,” 
she has accomplished by the sword and the legislature. By 
bribes and threats the bishop has generally succeeded in 
getting from the king such as he sought for the advance- 
ment of his own order; which, in ecclesiastical language, is 
for the advancement of the glory of God. 

As showing my religious views, at the end of my legal 
studies, I can not do better than give, in a condensed form, 
the thesis I wrote, at that time, for the faculty of law: 

“ The follower of Kant has no hesitancy in referring the 
•origin of potential law to intuition; for assuming the great 
assumption of his master, he has no difficulty in deducing 
such conclusions, as may establish his theory. But since 
theology ceased to attract its wonted attention, and lost its 
power to punish disobedience, the trustworthiness of its 
foundation, deductive philosophy, has been successfully 
■questioned. When theology had power to crush its op- 
ponents, men, either through coercion, or fear, or ignorance, 
were mere satellites of the priesthood; but a few men pro- 
pelled by unusual genius, having broken away from their 
superstitious orbits, and dashed into others of amazing 
splendor, the highest minds of the age followed them, thus 
making the disruption between theology and scientific in- 
vestigation complete. 

“ Opposed to all deductive philosophy, is the ‘ Essay on 
the Human Understanding,’ by the empirical philosopher, 
Locke. A faithful study of human nature on a posteriori 
grounds will not strengthen the faith of the believer in 
innate ideas; and to study it exclusively on other grounds, 
is to pursue philosophical investigations, by the use of the 


292 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


most unphilosophical method. Theologians have generally- 
been followers of the deductive method, for by its means 
can every form of conclusion be apparently deduced, need- 
ful to the propping up of every dogma and sect. Whoever 
adopts the deductive system, paying no attention to the in- 
ductive, may satisfy himself and perhaps his age; but he 
never can become a discoverer of unquestionable facts by 
reasoning, as he does, from premises adopted for the occa- 
sion. There is no comparison, as means for the ascertain- 
ment of truth, between a generalization from a series of 
known historical facts, and an introspective analysis of the 
supposed constituents of the mind. The fact that meta- 
physicians have never agreed on any one exposition of 
human nature, is an unanswerable proof of the uncertainty 
of their premises. Their systems are broad deductions 
from necessarily circumscribed views. The fact that under 
the system of Bacon, the father of the inductive method, 
the world has shook off her shackles, and been lifted out of 
darkness into marvelous light, out of self- adulation into 
active, free, and universally successful contention with the 
great and ever-increasing difficulties of a hitherto unknown 
universe, is enough to strike dumb an unprejudiced 
believer in innate ideas. Wherever the inductive method 
has prevailed, there has been a popular diffusion of knowl- 
edge followed by a general elevation of the masses; 
wherever the deductive method has prevailed, knowledge 
has never been widely disseminated, and the masses have 
been in comparative darkness. ‘ But,’ says the student of 
Kant, ‘innate ideas give an original consciousness of right 
and wrong, as generic, not as specific.’ We answer that a 
generic consciousness of right and wrong could not be 
reasonably held to manifest itself in such specific contraries. 
A force of this kind in all men, derived from the Creator, 
would necessarily tend to universal and specific unity; but 


STUDY THE LAW. 


2 93 


instead of such unity, nothing is so vague, so various, so 
ambiguous, so utterly untrustworthy, as what is termed the 
universal sense of right and wrong. In reasoning we must 
proceed from fact to theory, and not from theory to fact. 
First principles are very unsatisfactory guides; and the 
knowledge of man, as he is, constantly conflicts 
with them. We must look elsewhere for the origin of po- 
tential law, than in innate ideas. By potential law we 
mean man’s consciousness of his need of, and power to pro- 
duce, such rules and regulations, binding on all, as would, 
in general, advance his own individual interests. Such 
sense of need we believe was produced in early man: 

1 : Through selfishness ; 

2 : Through the love of off-spring ; 

3 : Through social intercourse • 

4 : Through sympathy. 

“ In these four factors we have the secret of the existence 
of potential law. 

“ Whether the root of sympathy be innate or not, we are 
warranted in holding that, as an effectual power, it is evolved 
only by experience and education. Humane actions are not 
peculiarly the outgrowth of religion ; humane actions are not 
always those most religious. While England was governed 
by priests, she was very unsympathetic. No nation has ever 
been more devoted to religious ceremony and devotion than 
Spain, and none has ever been more devoid of sympathy and 
individual liberty. Sympathy is the offspring of experience. 
A nation under the heels of the priesthood can not give birth 
to those noble principles which, while they make activity 
free and independent, at the same time nourish those senti- 
ments which bind the human family together. A people 
who grovel in the dust at the passing-by of a wine-bibbing 
and lustful priest, have none of those manly traits which are 
necessary to the engendering of genuine sympathy. Com- 


294 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


merce also is necessary to the highest sympathy, as the his- 
tory of nations prove. The greater the priestly power in a 
nation, the less its sympathy. When England was most 
governed by priests, she could hang up men by the feet,, 
and smoke them as if hams; could exile every Jew, and 
most barbarously treat thousands of that ill-fated people ; 
could shut up within dungeon walls, at the behest of a bigot, 
called Clement IV, a Roger Bacon, on the charge of heresy,, 
although he had spent a large fortune for the advancement 
of science, and was confessedly the most learned man of the 
age. 

“The origin of active law is found in the following 
factors : 

i : The family relation ; 

2: Arbitration; 

3: Community relation ; 

4: The national relation. 

“ This fourth factor of active law may be : 

1: As laid down by the nation’s head ; 

2: As enacted by the representatives of the people ; 

3: As declared in judicial decisions. 

“ Concerning this last as an origin of active law, we may 
say that no men have more adorned the earth with honor 
and probity, than the great judges of the English Bench. 
We know that while the English ecclesiastics exercised the 
office of judges, the Bench and forum was the hot-bed of 
injustice and corruption. The common law was hateful to 
the bishops, because it somewhat narrowed the sphere for 
the exercise of their ecclesiastical tyranny. As early as 
1371, a memorable protest was made by the people in 
parliament against the clergy holding the important state 
and judicial offices. Since the 17th century, no ecclesiastic 
has been Lord Chancellor ; ‘ and,’ says Lord Campbell, ‘ I 
presume the experiment is not likely to be soon repeated/ 


STUDY THE LAW. 


295 


Under such persons as Coke, Hale, Nottingham. Hardwicke, 
Holt, Mansfield, Kenyon, and others, the law put on her 
beautiful garments of justice and honor. Symmetry and 
grandeur decked their judgments ; for in them the Bench 
was crowned with immense intellects, and the most incor- 
ruptible integrity. Such men have made judicial decisions 
one of the greatest and most worthy sources of active law. 

“ In considering the operations of the law, we must take 
into consideration: 

1 : Its limits ; 

2: Its force. 

“ The end of the law is the greatest possible happiness of 
the greatest possible number ; and its influence and power 
extend over all those who live under the power whence it 
originates. It follows that law must be adapted to the 
wants and conditions of the people, or it will fail to reach 
the end it £eeks. To enact laws opposed by the mass of the 
people, is to sharpen a sword for one’s own decapitation. 
‘ Potestas regis est potestas legis, potestas juris non injurise/ 
The king or the legislature may enact a law, they may make 
a skeleton strong, and well proportioned ; but flesh and 
blood, without which it can not live, can be added only by 
the people. ‘ Le roi le veut,’ has always failed to effectively 
enforce the statute, when the people as a whole refuse to 
receive it. The rolling and bleeding heads of English kings 
sufficiently attest this fact. For fifteen years George III 
acted almost as an absolute monarch. A man of scarcely 
any education himself, and less practical ability, during the 
sixty years of his reign he showed such hatred of all states- 
men of ability, that with the single exception of Pitt, there 
was not a great man admitted to his councils. In October, 
1761, Pitt fell, and thus the only check to the king’s foolish 
desires was removed. In Grenville’s ministry, the king had 
all he sought, and the government ceased to be representa- 


296 THE EVOLUTION OE A LIFE. 

tive. What was the result ? From every breast arose the 
cry, ‘ Wilkes and liberty !’ The whole spirit of the people 
was on the point of rebellion, when it suddenly broke out 
among the colonists in America, who were freer to speak than 
their brethren at home. Their cry went up for English 
liberty, and it was seconded by the heart of England. The 
king made war against his subjects in America ; but it was 
the ‘ king’s war ; ’ the heart of his subjects at home was not 
with him, and he therefore failed in his purposes. 

“ Law should not, and properly can not, precede public 
opinion. All true law is the crystallization of the people’s 
aims, wants, or desires. * Jus civile est quod quisque populus 
sibi constituit.’ The nature and condition of the people 
must therefore determine the character and limits of legis- 
lation. The legislature may lead the people, by first im- 
pressing them with the utility of the new law ; but in gen- 
eral it is the duty of the legislature to follow, and not coerce, 
public opinion. 

“ The force of active law is twofold : 

1 : Active ; 

2 : Negative. 

“ The fact that every member of a state possesses a real 
good in acquiring the esteem of his fellow citizens, has 
always had, from the very beginning of man’s civilization, a 
great influence in making him law-abiding and orderly. 
Rooted in selfishness, and quickened by experience, the de- 
sire for distinction frequently exhibits itself as the most 
dominant passion among men, and certainly serves as one 
of the most influential forces, though negative, for the en- 
forcement of law and order. In inducing patriotism, in 
evolving native genius, in advancing the arts and sciences, 
in adjusting the results of labor and capital, in crowning 
every department of government with the highest ability of 
the country, — the desire for distinction is pre-eminent 


STUDY THE LAW. 


297 


among all the forces which direct or rule the powers of man. 
‘His rebus gestis ex litteris Caesaris dierum viginti suppli- 
catio a senatu decreta est,’ is not only a proof that the war- 
rior is honored by his country ; but it is also the explanation 
of his otherwise inexplicable bravery. The many benefits 
derived from obedience to the laws established by the people, 
as a whole, for the government of each individual, are not 
unknown to the mass of citizens governed by such laws; and 
to secure those benefits, the people try to live in conformity 
to the legislative will. Thus the desire for distinction is one 
of the greatest causes of the negative force of active law. 
'Epees toc xaTeptuv pey apecvoves eu/opsO' scvacj is a very proper 
prayer; but it is certain that but few would strive after any- 
thing, were it not because of the benefits resulting from the 
strife. 

“Another chief cause of the force of active law, is the 

J ' 

law’s restraining power. All that a man hath, will he give 
for his life. Life being so dear, the desire to shun every- 
thing which would endanger it, must be correspondingly 
great. The violent waves of malice and vengeance, when 
broken by no other power, are effectively held in check by 
the sight of the gallows, or even of the felon’s cell. Capital 
punishment, though certainly not reformative of the indi- 
vidual is the most powerful force in the state, in preventing 
those crimes which warrant its infliction. The penalties of 
the law are not, as many writers hold, for the reformation of 
the individual, but for the welfare of society as a whole. 
Penalty is of the essence of law ; and from the earliest social 
organism, to the very highest yet to come, there will not 
have been enacted one efficient law of which penalty was 
not a necessary element. ‘The main strength and force of . 
the law consist in the penalty annexed to it.’ 

“ Legal offences are generally divided into mala in se, and 
mala prohibita. All laws are founded in man, and therefore 


298 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


those offences usually termed mala in se, are philosophically 
no less against society than those called mala prohibita. 
Mala in se are by some writers, and perhaps most writers, 
supposed to be prohibited by a higher power than are mala 
prohibita ; but there is no warrant whatever for such a sup- 
position. Conscience itself is but a result of experience ; 
and as conscience is the force which is said by such writers 
to inhibit mala in se, it follows that experience has taught 
man to make this distinction between mala prohibita and 
mala in se, as one that is useful in distinguishing between the 
enormities of crimes. It is philosophically certain that so- 
ciety is and must be the supreme judge of what is right and 
of what is wrong. Even admitting a divine revelation, we 
must still admit the right of reason to refuse in such revela- 
tion what, from its very nature, appears to be a grave inter- 
polation. This is admitted by all, and its admission neces- 
sarily subjects the whole of such revelation to the test of 
reason ; and thus philosophically results, what we have 
already said : society is the judge of what is right, and of 
what is wrong. Punishment is decreed by society, and its 
end is social good. This end is sought not, as some suppose, 
on the ground of philanthrophy, but on the ground of selfish- 
ness : punishment is necessary for the safety and repose of 
the individual. Law could no more exist without penalty, 
than water without its atom of oxygen. 

“ The civilizing power of the law is seen in three factors: 

1 : As a reflex force ; 

2 : As guaranteeing man’s rights and liberties ; 

3 : As a guide and teacher. 

“ Where there is good order, there are good men. If it 
be held that the perfections of the Deity make impossible 
the reasonableness of prayer, as a means of deriving from 
God special benefits, it does not therefore follow that there 
is no negative benefit in prayer. Thus we say of the law : 


STUDY THE LAW. 


2 99 

there is in it a reflex force, a negative benefit, which works 
in the law-abiding citizen an unconscious change for his 
good. Of the truth of this statement, there can be no doubt. 
This negative force of the law is co-extensive with the sov- 
ereignty of the nation ; and there is not one of its citizens 
who is not more or less re-created by it. The reflex force 
of the law, often unthanked, and generally unperceived, is 
ever changing the atoms of deformity into those of beauty 
and social order. There can be no greater stimulus to* 
activity, in the various spheres of national industry, than 
that which arises from the knowledge of the security which 
the law gives every man, in the laudable rivalries of life. 

“ The sources of law and religion are supposed to be 
radically different; and certainly they have not the same 
end in common. Law is founded in utility, and is wholly 
originated and preserved by the people. Religion, on the 
other hand, is supposed, by those most interested in it, to 
have had a superhuman origin; and its prime factors are 
supposed to be beyond the test of human reason. The end 
of the law is the perfection of known existence; while the 
end of religion is said to be the proper preparation for an 
unknown existence. Law is wholly the fruit of human 
reason; religion is essentially the fruit of superstition and 
belief. If religion is to be enjoyed at all, all men should be 
free to follow whatever forms of religion may seem most 
agreeable to their respective natures, it being understood 
that no man should be permitted to follow or enjoy any 
religion opposed to the interests of the state. In judging 
whether or not any system of religious belief be detrimental 
to the interests of the state, known facts must be preferred 
to unknown, the results of experience to the claims of 
faith. Law should secure the freedom of individual 
opinion except where, by the use of such individual free- 
dom, the institutions of state, or the liberties of others, are 


3 °° 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


endangered. That law may fulfill these grand purposes, 
fanaticism must not be one of its elements; and that it may 
be a shelter to all, it must not be exponential of the cre- 
dulity of any. As soon as religion puts its hand to the helm 
of the ship of state, the security of the nation and its citi- 
zens is gone. The end and sphere of law demand that the 
ark in which the sacred rights and liberties of the people 
are preserved, be never approached by the hand of him 
who seeks legislative discrimination in religious matters. 
Law in its very nature is national; religion in its very 
nature is exclusive and narrow. We may say with truth 
that however beautiful the life of Christ may have been, the 
lives of his followers have been seen to the worst advantage, 
when they have had power to enforce their views upon 
others. Christians have been neither charitable, nor merci- 
ful, when the laws of the land were determined by the 
church. Calvin was designed for the priesthood, and held 
a benefice at the early age of twelve years. Very early he 
saw the false and dangerous claims of the Pope, and gave 
up his benefice. He then with great zeal applied himself 
to the study of the law at Orleans, but afterwards took up 
theology again. His legal studies sharpened his powers of 
judgment, and he soon became the most inveterate enemy 
of Rome, even declaring the Pope to be antichrist. Calvin 
became the champion of the French Reformation, but as 
soon as Francis I began to revel in Protestant blood, Calvin 
was compelled to fly from Paris. He then denounced in 
fiercest language the tyranny of the Pope, and the unscript- 
ural character of the Roman Catholic Church, and soon 
convinced his enemies of his ability as a disputant and a 
leader of men. He swayed the hearts of thousands; his 
authority and rule rapidly increased, until his victory was 
complete. The usual result followed. Calvin set up an 
inexorably rigid church discipline; instituted an ecclesias- 


STUDY THE LAW. 


301 


tical consistory empowered to inflict heavy penalties civil as 
well ecclesiastical, and through it exercised almost unlim- 
ited sway. The citizen was called to answer for every 
suspicious expression, the incorrigible being banished, and 
the dangerous put to death. One was imprisoned for 
speaking slightingly of his doctrine; another was put to 
death for denying the Trinity. When Calvin was denied by 
Rome the right of freedom of speech, he denounced the 
Pope in the most bitter terms; but as soon as he had 
acquired the authority, he became more oppressive than the 
Pope himself. The Romish hierarchy is the mother of 
religious intolerance; but the spirit of intolerance is coex- 
tensive with religious superstition, and manifests itself 
immediately at the excessive dominance of any religious 
party. 

“ In the year 1534, the English Church severed its con- 
nection with Rome by statute xxvi Henry VIII, c. 1; and 
in 1537 the reformation of the English Church, under 
Henry VIII, had reached its culminating point. The 
grounds of this separation were papal tyranny, and political 
difficulties arising out of the recognition by English citizens 
of foreign authority. But the English Church having 
thrown off the yoke of its foreign master, it was not long 
before the people discovered, that the tyranny of the Pope 
had only been transferred to English bishops. 

“ From the earlist ages, scepticism has always prevailed 
among the powerful and the more learned; but the ignorant 
and the weak have been kept in servile bondage to priestly 
dictation. Very early in the reformation of the English 
Church, it began more and more to restrict the liberty of 
speech, and to enforce conformity to its ritual and dogma. 
Queries ex officio mero were issued against clergymen, to 
answer under oath questions which involved their opinions, 
not only as to matters in which they had, or might have, 


3 ° 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


conformed, but also as to their future intentions concerning 
conformity. To obtain their ends, the governors of the 
church resorted to the barbarous cruelty of torture. Acts 
of Conformity were passed, §§2 and 3 Edward VI, c. 1; §§5 
and 6 Edward VI, c. 1, which were afterwards abolished by 
Mary, sessions ii, c. 2; and on April 29th, 1659, the Acts of 
Supremacy (I Eliz. c. 1) and Uniformity (I Eliz. c. 2) were 
passed by parliament. Under these acts, all non-conform- 
ists were punished by fines, imprisonment, or banishment. 
Life became grievous; multitudes left the country. But 
the great engine of tyranny was the Ecclesiastical Commis- 
sion. This was established under the eighth clause of the Act 
of Supremacy, which permitted the queen to delegate her 
powers to persons appointed to carry out the purposes of 
the Acts of Supremacy and Conformity. The power thus 
delegated was indefinite and almost unlimited, all opinions 
and actions, contrary to the above legislative acts, falling 
under its cognizance. This unmerciful persecution by the 
English Church caused a consequent antagonism which 
sought its revenge in the overthrow of the established 
church. But here again we find the persecuted soon 
becoming the persecutors. On January 3rd, 1645, an ordi- 
nance was passed by parliament, prohibiting the public use 
of the prayer-book; and on August 23rd of this year, this 
prohibition was made general. Thus was the established 
church overthrown, and humbled almost to death through 
its own arrogance, and tyranny. 

“ One would think that the Puritans, having thus tasted 
the bitterness of oppression, would in their days of power 
be tolerant ; but they were not so. They acted as had their 
brother ecclesiastics in like position : they proved what may 
be said to be a universal truth, — oppression always follows the 
free exercise of the will of an ecclesiastical legislature. The 
Puritans of the Commonwealth manifested the most bitter 


STUDY THE LAW. 


3°3 


spirit of revenge, and set up a government the most intol- 
erant of all. The royalist clergy were deprived of every 
means of living, and all persons were prohibited from em- 
ploying them even as tutors. They established a tribunal 
called the Triers, to which was assigned all authority in 
matters of church government ; and they passed an ordin- 
ance against heretical opinions. They even endeavored to 
deal with private vices by passing several laws against im- 
morality ; and they everywhere persecuted the adherents of 
Episcopalianism. During the eleven years (1649-1660) 
in which the Puritans had full sway, they set the church 
above the state, and made gods of their ministers. Said 
Cartwright, one of their great leaders : ‘ The magistrates 

must remember to submit themselves unto the church, to 
throw down their crowns before the church, yea, as the 
prophet speaketh, to lick the dust off the feet of the church.’ 
Puritanism was the child of oppression, but it early became 
the prince of tyrants. So shameful, unmerciful, violent, 
and tyrannical, had the exercise of their power become that 
even the Presbyterians hailed with delight its fall, and the 
restoration of the monarchy. The joy in England at the 
coming of Charles, was general and genuine, and the bells 
tolled out the song of gladness. 

“ Ecclesiastics can not be permitted to determined legis- 
lation ; for so great is their love of power, that they will 
even destroy themselves to satiate it. They can no more be 
trusted with government than the tiger with the taste of 
blood. By permitting ecclesiastics to have the power of 
determining legislation, the state renders impossible the end 
of government — the welfare of the citizens as a whole. The 
welfare of religion should not be considered, when the leg- 
islature asks itself, whether or not any particular legislation 
will be beneficial to the state. It should be determined by 
the general ideas of the state at large, as enlightened by 


3©4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


science and reason. Religion is in its very nature exclusive 
and arbitrary, and it is as naturally productive of intolerance 
as the sun is of heat. The seeming liberality which prevails 
at certain times and places, is not the fruit of religion ; but 
as a man will give all that he has for his life, so will any 
ecclesiastical body suffer many grievous things, rather than 
be pressed to death by the pressure of public opinion. We 
have no grounds for supposing that different results from 
those mentioned above would follow to-day the excessive 
dominance of any ecclesiastical party ; but the spread of 
scientific knowledge, and the consequent dissipation of su- 
perstition and credulity, tending to bring into subjection 
mdre and more any and every form of religious faith, gives 
us good assurance, that the enlightened nations of the world 
will not again try the experiment of allowing ecclesiastics to 
shapen legislation to the jeopardy of liberty and truth. 

“ An immoral religion should be proscribed by the state. 
In considering the fitness of a religion, positive facts showing 
incontrovertably, its evil results, should outweigh all declar- 
ations, made by its adherents, that its origin is divine. This 
rule should be followed for three reasons : 

“i : The teachers of all religions are greatly interested 
parties, and are, therefore, naturally prejudiced in favor of 
their respective creeds ; 

“ 2 : Positive knowledge is superior to mere faith or be- 
lief ; 

“ 3 : It is not to be believed that God would reveal a 
religion injurious to society. 

“ The people of the state should, therefore, judge of the 
fitness of a religion, and their criterion must be present util- 
ity. What is right and what is wrong, are questions which 
always exist in public and in private ; and in answering 
them, not only the individual, but also the nation will fre- 
quently be sorely perplexed. The ecclesiastic holds that 


STUDY THE LAW. 


305 


many such questions can be answered only by God, and that 
such have been answered by Him once for all in the Bible. 
This is natural : it is to the interests of ecclesiastics to say 
so. But we hold that the correct answer to the question, 
what is useful ? is also the correct answer to the seemingly 
mysterious one, what is right ? Right with one nation is 
right with another nation, only so far as the questions in- 
volved affect alike their respective interests. What is really 
useful to the individual or the nation, is what that same in- 
dividual or nation believes to be right ; and this is the ex- 
planation why good ecclesiastics have been the most infam- 
ous persecutors. What they desired, appeared useful to 
them ; and they, therefore, thought it would be right, and 
pursued after it with all the power they could command. 

“ As a guide and teacher law is most powerful. Religion 
has a strong influence over some, law the strongest influence 
over all. Many of the noblest are not interested in religion, 
founding their objections on its contradictory character, and 
the lack of reasonable evidence to support its claims ; but 
the law is equally binding on all, from the king to the peas- 
ant. Its invincible power is recognized by all, because on 
the enforcement of the law, depends the safety of the indi- 
vidual, as well as the welfare of the nation. The tendency 
of the law is to exterminate the very impulse to trespass be- 
yond the proper region of free action. Religion interests a 
few ; law interests all. Law determines our action for a 
world we know all about ; religion determines our action 
for a world we know nothing about, all the creeds to the 
contrary. Law is all-mighty. We see the cowardly and 
superstitious John, for his disobedience to Rome, licking 
the dust off the feet of the proud tyrant who arrogates to 
himself the power of the Almighty ; but in one hundred and 
sixty-two years from that time, in the year 1365, we see the 
law asserting itself, in parliament, over kings and popes, by 


20 


3°6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


repudiating papal supremacy, and refusing the papal tribute 
undertaken by John. A king tyrannizes over his subjects, 
and covers his despotism with the cloak of religion ; but the 
wrathful nation, recalling its ancient privileges, determines 
to enforce the law, and they wring from their law-breaking 
king, on the 15th of June, 1215, at Runnymede, the Great 
Charter, the bulwark of English liberty. Popes can buy 
and sell passports to heaven, and give to whom they will 
their papal indulgences ; but the law brings the proudest 
usurper down, and humbles him in the dust. From the in- 
fancy of humanity to the present time, there never has been 
wanting forces to impede the free development of the human 
mind, by suppressing thought, and wrapping the individual 
in mysticism and darkness. The greatest of these forces 
has been that of religious teaching, whether Christian or 
heathen. In the fourteenth century, when English human- 
ity began to groan under oppression, and demand the ex- 
tension of liberty, the church advised emancipation ; but 
although she could advise the barons to emancipate their 
serfs, she had not the virtue to emancipate her own. To 
secure herself the church could set the king above all 
earthly power, by preaching divine right and passive obe- 
dience. The law, on the other hand, asserting all authority 
to be in the will of the people, would not thus be deprived 
of its throne. When James II commanded the young Duke 
of Somerset to introduce the papal nuncio, the young man 
replied : ‘I am advised that I can not obey your majesty 
without breaking the law.’ ‘Do you not know,’ replied the 
king, ‘that I am above the law ? ’ ‘Your majesty may be,’ 
answered the young duke, ‘ but I am not.’ 

“ The nation guided by the church, is sure to die ; the na- 
tion guided by the will of the people, is sure to live. Spain 
is an example of the former ; England and the United 
States, examples of the latter. Italy, while under the rule of 


STUDY THE LAW. 


307 


the priest, was a carcass ; having cast off the ecclesiastical 
yoke, she is coming to the front among the great nations of 
the world. The hand of the priest paralyzes everything it 
touches ; the will of the people, when expressed in law, 
raises the nation up. 

“ The power and saving nature of the law is well ex- 
pressed by Lord Coke: ‘ By the common law,’ says he, 
‘every man’s house is called his castle. Why ? Because it 
is surrounded by a moat, or defended by a wall ? No ! It 
may be a straw-built hut ; the wind may whistle through it, 
the rain may enter it, but the king can not.’ Well is such a 
power portrayed by the king of poets : 

‘ He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, or 
Jove for his power to thunder. His heart is his mouth; 

What his breast forges, that his tongue must speak.’ 

“ Such characters as Hardwicke, Camden, Thurlow, Ros- 
lin, Redesdale, Grant, Eldon, and others, permeate the 
whole nation with the spirit of justice, and move it onward 
towards the goal of perfection. Whether we consider the 
pillars of government, the pilots of the ship of state, the 
makers of commerce, the leaders of society, the originators 
of peace, or the guides of individual action, — we shall find 
first and foremost, in power and example, the great lights of 
the law.” 

The epitome just given of the thesis I wrote for the 
faculty, at the close of my legal studies, sets forth, to no 
small extent, my religious views. Innate ideas are repudi- 
ated ; theology is said to have lost its power ; the disruption 
between theology and science is complete ; theologians have 
generally been followers of the deductive method, thus mak- 
ing their conclusions but broad deductions from narrow and 
untrustworthy premises ; humane actions are not the out- 
growth of religion ; the nation is in danger, if under the 


308 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


heels of the priesthood ; ecclesiastics are not to be trusted, 
either as judges or legislators ; the apparent fraternal feel- 
ing at present existing between the different denominations, 
is not the result of the spirit of kindness, but is manifested 
for the sake of self-preservation, infidelity and public opin 
ion forcing it ; Christians when in power, have been neither 
charitable nor merciful ; ecclesiastics can not be permitted 
to determine legislation ; reason is above dogma and the 
bible ; the teachers of all religions are naturally interested 
parties, and therefore their declarations must be received 
accordingly ; religious teachers have helped to keep the 
mind of man in darkness ; the nation is sure to die, if guided 
by the priesthood ; the priest paralyzes whatever he touches. 

These sayings sufficiently attest my doubts as to the re- 
vealed nature of Christianity, and my distrust toward church 
and clergy. 

I had read very extensively on the history of the Christian 
church, carefully reading all of the more celebrated works 
written on the subjects in the English language ; and my 
conclusions were such that, in a letter to the bishop, I said : 
“ If a man wishes to arrive at infidelity, the shortest and 
best road is to make himself thoroughly acquainted with the 
history of the church.” I was sure that no persons had 
shown such unwavering hatred, such maliciousness, such 
cunning and guile, such baseness and treachery, such re- 
vengeful and murderous spirit, as had the priests and 
bishops of the church. When the Hussite Reformers were 
at war with the papists, they burnt priests and monks in 
pitch, and put to the sword whole districts, with the excep- 
tion of a few women and children ; while, on the other hand, 
the murderous hatred of the papal party carried them to 
such atrocity, that they even bought their enemies at so 
much a head, afterwards to put them to a most cruel death. 
Terrible as this strife was, it is not inaptly characteristic of 


STUDY THE LAW. 


309 


priestly wars in general. I was certain that as drunkards, 
lechers, adulterers, betrayers, traitors, perjurers, torturers 
and murderers, the ecclesiastics had excelled all others. I 
wondered not that Henry II, he who initiated in England 
the rule of law, to whom may be traced the court of King’s 
Bench, the equitable jurisdiction of the chancellor, and trial 
by jury, who was one of the ablest and most efficient mon- 
archs that ever lived, and whose friendship was sought by 
the contemporary sovereigns at any price, should die cursing 
the whole order of ecclesiastics. 

In this spirit I addressed the following letter to my bishop: 

“Acropolis, Feb. 14th, 1883. 

“ Right Rev. Sir, — I left Bethabara not with the view 
of seeking another diocese, but with that of preparing myself 
to get my living, if desirable, in a secular pursuit. 

“ By the Almighty’s goodness I have had the opportunity 
of most assiduously studying the law since February, 1881, 
and I have not left anything undone, that I thought would 
make me more proficient in legal knowledge. 

“ I believe at all times I wish to do the thing that is 
right ; but the determination of this thing, is frequently dif- 
ficult, and sometimes impossible. 

“ From my youth up till now I have done scarcely any- 
thing else than study ; and since 1867 I have always shaped 
my studies for the better preparation for the ministry. My 
mind is now much disturbed. All men are more or less 
superstitious, often founding mountains of fear upon imag- 
inary foundations. From my infancy Christ has been my 
meat and drink. Why should I now hesitate to turn aside 
from a work not at all desirable ? My intelligence says, 
< go ; ’ but the web which my life’s activities have woven 
about me, is hard, yes, painful to break. But, God helping 
me around whom may my little world ever move, I feel I 
must break through it. That I should have much disquie- 


3io 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


tude in ceasing to publish the theme of Calvary, seems child- 
ish, or at least superstitious ; for seeking after God on 
purely Platonic grounds, I should be confident of beautifying 
my life’s temple, and of fitting it for the hoped-for future 
life. Thus while intellectually confident that the door to 
God is every point in space, and that earnestly seeking after 
Him, whatever may be the seeker’s creed or belief, brings a 
resulting, divine knowledge ; yet this web of being, so per- 
sistent in holding me down to my youthful thoughts, labors 
to put great limitations upon my intellectual freedom ; and 
it fills my future way with heathenish figures of John Bun- 
yan’s description. 

“ In order to quiet the lurking fears of my breast, I wilt 
say that if you know of any work, where my views would be 
acceptable, and myself successful, I am ready to take hold of 
it, provided it offers me a fair remuneration ; although I do 
not wish to go to any other diocese. 

“ I am thankful to you for all your past kindness, and I 
hope you may live long and be happy. 

“ I am greatly delighted with Plato. I think there are 
but few living Christians who might not be made much more 
virtuous, and much wiser, by an attentive study of his gospel: 

c oox apa too dixaioo fiXanTstv spyov, outs <ptXov outs aXXov 
oodsva , aXXa too svavTtoo too adixoo .* (Repub. I, C. IX.) 

“ Adieu, dear sir. May God Almighty help us all to do 
our duty, until we meet where the weary are at rest. 

“Very respectfully, 

Henry Truro Bray.” 

“ Well, Harry,” said Mabel,” it is nearly three weeks since 
you wrote the bishop. Have you heard from him yet ? ” 

“Yes, Mabel, I heard from him to-day. 

“ What has he to say, Harry, will you tell me ?” 

“ He writes a very friendly letter ; but is sorry that I 
should hold such rationalistic views. He seems somewhat 


p 


STUDY THE LAW. 31 1 

troubled about the welfare of my soul. Such men as bishops 
who are so holy that they can either fry their opponents in 
the ‘ dry-pan and gradual fire,’ roast them at the stake, or 
hang them up by the heels, and smoke them, could not be 
expected willingly to be classed with wicked characters like 
Plato who taught that it is far better to receive injustice than 
do it; that the just man never does an injury not even to his 
enemy ?” 

“ What does the bishop say, Harry ?” 

“ He says that there is no such opening in his diocese at 
present, as I am seeking. He would also advise me to seek 
a diocese where there are more opportunities than are found 
with him.” 

“ Doesn’t he offer you work at all ?” 

“Yes, Mabel. He says if I wish work in his diocese, he 
will give me such as he has ; but he wishes me to guard well 
my thoughts, lest I disturb the minds of the people over 
whom I may be set. He thinks 1 am too out-spoken, and 
advises me to keep within my breast any secret misgivings I 
may have.” 

“ What do you intend doing, Harry ? ” 

“ I believe I will go into the practice of the law.” 

“ I wish you were going back to your old work, Harry. 
It seems to me that no man could be loved more than you 
have been; but I am sure that nobody loves a lawyer.” 

“ I will acknowledge, Mabel, that I have no fault to find 
with the treatment I have received from the parishes I have 
been in. In every case I have received all they have prom- 
ised me, and a little more. They have indeed been kind to 
me. But, Mabel, I am more than ever satisfied that the pe- 
culiar claims of Christianity have no foundation in truth. 
There are in Christianity many noble principles; but those 
same principles are common to all great religions. It is true 
that some of those principles are more developed, made 


w 


312 the evolution of a life. 

* 

more conspicuous, in Christianity; but, as principles, they 
are not peculiar to our religion. I must confess that I have 
less and less faith in the exclusive claims of Christianity.” 

“ Where do you think you will begin the practice of the 
law ? ” 

“ I have made up my mind to move to Philopolis, in the 
state of Hancock. It is a large and flourishing city, and I 
think I should have a fair prospect of success in it. I ac- 
knowledge that I go into this work full of trembling; yet I 
will go on, and try to keep my heart open to any and every 
impression I may think comes from God. If I should 
turn from the regular work of the ministry, I could still 
remain a preacher of righteousness. 

“ May God help you, darling Harry. I wish your Mabel 
could tell you what to do. But I sometimes fear, if you go 
into this work, you will never go to church again; and that 
the contempt you now feel for those who are insincere and 
untruthful, may then manifest itself more fully.” 

“ I do think, my darling wife, that I should not be a reg- 
ular attendant at church. There is too much ignorance in 
the pulpit, too much setting up ‘men of straw’ for fools to 
knock down, and act as if they had slain a giant.” 

“ I wish, Harry, that everybody was as sincere as you ; 
but in a world where the love of gold or popularity is the 
one great motive power that moves mankind to act, the 
honest and sincere soul is likely to meet with many re- 
buffs.” 

“ My darling wife, you are the one comfort and power of 
my life; and from you I have nothing hidden. Yet, even 
to you I sometimes almost fear to speak, lest the words I 
utter, should hurt you; lest the food I would give you, be 
too strong for your digestion. I have certainly known some 
eminently good men in the ministry, men who, I doubt not, 
believe all they preach, and have a fair amount of learning; 


STUDY THE LAW. 


3 l 3 


but such men are peculiarly constituted, being never given 
to examine seriously the principles of their faith. As in- 
fants eat, so they believe. The mother puts her infant to 
her breast, and it imbibes, whether the fluid be fit for food 
or not; thus with such men, they believe, without question, 
whatever they have received, and even seem happy and sat- 
isfied. But that a faith makes a man happy, is no sufficient 
reason for holding or adopting it. A man might have all 
confidence in his ship, although, unknown to him, she may 
be fast filling with water. As a rule, the faithful followers 
of any religion are contented and happy. I can assure you 
that the degree of happiness a religion may give a man, has 
nothing to do with its truth or falsity. But although I have 
known some ministers whose sincerity and truthfulness I 
have had no reason to doubt, I have known many more who 
were insincere and untruthful. Such ministers have spoken 
to me of their doubts concerning Christ’s divinity, who yet 
in their sermons never breathe such doubts; have denied to 
me the Trinity, and afterwards in the pulpit affirmed their 
faith in it; have denied to me the personality of the devil, 
and afterwards before their people asserted their belief in it; 
denied eternal punishment, and in their public utterances 
affirmed it; denied the inspiration of the Scriptures, and on 
the very next Sunday affirmed their faith in it. All this I 
have known them to do; and the only excuse they give, is 
that a man should not give utterance in the pulpit to his pri- 
vate opinions. I tell you, Mabel, I am sick of the insincer- 
ity and hypocrisy that I have witnessed among ministers. 
Some good and noble men there are ; but, as I have said, I 
do not believe that the average minister is, in the true sense, 
a good and noble man.” 

“ I have seen enough. Harry, to assure me that ministers, 
like others, are in general moved by a short-sighted selfish* 


314 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

ness which teaches, that the welfare of the body is more 
than that of the soul.” 

“ And what good, Mabel, do you suppose I could get by 
going to church? Suppose the minister be a good man; 
what then? He believes that his faith is true; I am satis- 
fied that it is seriously to be questioned. What help or con- 
solation could I receive from such a man ? I answer, I 
could receive none whatever, but rather irritation. The 
justice and greatness of his god, is the injustice and little- 
ness of mine. The blood of Calvary has a sweet-smelling 
savor to him; to me it represents an intentional and wilful 
homicide. The immaculate conception, the deity of Christ, 
vicarious atonement, the doctrine of election, eternal bless- 
edness, eternal damnation, the call of Abraham, the resurrec- 
tion of the body, the choice by God of the Jews and Chris- 
tians, apostolic succession, — these are some of the beliefs 
which give him comfort; but these same beliefs cause me 
pain and disgust — they are an offence to me. If you ask 
me to believe in the immaculate conception, I am offended: 
you might as well ask me to walk on my head. In the latter 
case I would answer, it is not the natural mode of locomo- 
tion ; in the former case I would answer, it is not a natural 
explanation. If you ask me to believe in the elect charac- 
ter of the Jews and Christians, I am disgusted and offended; 
you might as well ask me to believe that God is unjust and 
wicked. If you ask me to believe in vicarious atonement, 
eternal damnation, or the resurrection of the body, you ask 
what a reasonable man can not do: you might as well ask me 
to believe that there are more gods than one, or that the one 
God is self-contradictory. No, Mabel, I am gone further 
than ever from such beliefs. I can not believe anything of 
God, which is contradicted by his visible works; I can not 
believe anything of the works of God, which is contradicted 
by every-day experience. Talking a few days ago with one 


STUDY THE LAW. 


315 


of the ablest men of the legal faculty, he said: ‘ The fact 
is, Mr. Bray, the dogmas of the Christian church are absurd. 
It is my belief that in a few more years they will be univer- 
sally rejected. They are an insult to the thinking mind. 
Had it not been for the labor of the parties interested, and 
the credulity of the ignorant, they would pass away in a 
generation.’ I believe, Mabel, in one God who is the Father 
of all. This God has no elect. All religions come from 
Him, as all warmth comes from the same sun. But as the sun’s 
heat, although scattered equally in all directions, is not equal- 
ly felt in all places, depending on our nearness to the sun, 
and the absence, of intervening substances; so God’s revela- 
tion of himself, though given to all and everywhere alike, 
is not equally felt, nor in the same manner expressed, by all, 
this depending on the character of the man, and his degree 
of cultivation. But all religions come from God; and all do 
good, in their time and place. The coarse and bloody re- 
ligion is adapted to the coarse and bloody man. He who 
conceives of God as having human characteristics, will have 
such a religion as his own mind might be the author of. 
But as all flowers will not grow in the same soil, so such low, 
gross and bloody conceptions of the Deity can find no ac- 
ceptation with me.” 

“I am satisfied, Harry, that you are right. In my early life 
I was taught and believed the Lutheran faith. After a time 
I became acquainted with some Baptist girls, and impressed 
with their ideas. In a short time the Baptists had succeeded 
in immersing me in the river, and I joined their church. 
Since I have been married, you know I have been a faithful 
student, reciting to you nearly every day, as a scholar to his 
master. As the result of such work, my mind has been en- 
larged, my reason strengthened. I am sure I could not 
believe to-day what I believed, when the Baptists immersed 
me. We all see out of our own eyes, we all think with our 


3i6 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


•own minds ; and our ability to think correctly depends, of 
course, on the character and amount of our education. I 
am perfectly satisfied that neither the confidence a person 
has in his faith, nor the degree of happiness he derives from 
it, has anything to do with its truth or falsity. It is certain 
that base actions, and false ideas often give us most happi- 
ness ; while noble actions, and correct ideas frequently 
bring us pain. I believe with you that the only test of a re- 
ligion is its reasonableness. A reasonable religion may be 
false, I’ll admit ; but I am certain that an unreasonable one 
can not be true. For it is evident that, if anything unrea- 
sonable can come from God, He must remain unknowable 
to us, since we have only our reason whereby to know Him. 
If some one says : ‘ No ; we have the Scriptures whereby 

to know him.’ I might answer : ‘You receive your Script- 
ures only because you believe they are reasonable.’ Thus 
there is no way to deny the fact, that reason remains the 
only power whereby we can know God ; or that, if God be 
unreasonable, He must remain unknown to us. But since 
the Christian and most of the non-Christian world believe 
that God is known, they must admit his reasonable charac- 
ter. Therefore I say with you that although all religions 
have their root in God, the unreasonable parts of them have 
their roots only in foolish-minded humanity, and that such 
parts are therefore false, and should be rejected by the 
thinking mind. 

“ As to your working in the church, you have borne so 
good a name for your ability aud integrity, that, it seems to 
me, you might remain in the church, and seek to lift it up 
to your plane of thinking. Your teaching is so grand and 
elevating, that no one can fail to admire your ideas, once 
they understand them. But do as you will, Harry, your 
Mabel will act with you ; and both of us will reach out our 


STUDY THE LAW. 


317 


hands after God, that He may lead us in the path which 
leads to light and life.” 

“ May the eternal God bless thee, my darling wife. Five 
years have I had thee as a flower, and every day thou art 
unfolding greater beauties, and shedding more delightful 
fragrance. Since Sunshine fell asleep, thou hast seemed to 
reflect her light, the light of God. I often think that she 
must hover over and bless thee, for all thou hast been and 
art to me.” 

“ Yes, Harry ; and I am never jealous, when I hear you 
speak of her, nor because of the love you bear her ; but I 
often wonder why you could love me as you do, once hav- 
ing known and loved her ; she was so amiable and lovely.” 

“ I love you, Mabel, as I loved her ; for as she was, so 
art thou, worthy of any man’s love and devotion. Such 
women are true gospels, real revelations, angels sent forth 
from the bosom of God, with lamps to lighten the dark path- 
way of man. With such a wife, I will go forth to my new 
work, seeking at all times to know and do the will of Him 
that sent both thee and me.” 


CHAPTER XL 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 

On the 16th day of April, 1883, I moved my family to the 
city of Philopolis, in the state of Hancock, with the inten- 
tion of beginning the practice of the law in that city. We 
were only just settled in the hotel, when I met the Rev. 
Megalogaster, an Episcopal priest. Long and earnestly he 
pleaded with me not to leave the ministry. He spoke of a 
gentleman who had not long before done this, and said how 
unhappy and wretched he felt. “ That man, Mr. Bray,” he 
said, “ would give the world to be back where he was; but 
he knows that though he has fallen with Peter, it is not so 
easy to rise with him. He is the most miserable man I 
have ever known. I believe, if you leave the ministry, you 
may find yourself in a similar state of wretchedness. Think 
of your promises, your vows, your obligations, and consider 
well before you renounce them all. Besides, if you leave 
the ministry, you are more than likely to cast aside the 
faith of your fathers. I hope you will not do this. There 
are some good places vacant in this diocese. You could 
soon find a good location, if you would.” 

I returned to the hotel sorely perplexed, and acquainted 
Mabel with what Mr. Megalogaster had said. 

“ Well, Harry,” she said, “ I do not know Mr. Megalo- 
gaster; but I do not think he can give you any information 
on the subject. He may be a superstitious man, mor£ 
noted for his love of form and ceremony, than for any 
amount of intelligence he may possess. But as I thought 
in Acropolis, so do I think now: I do not believe that a 

313 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 319 4 

man with your high ideas of life and duty, can ever 
descend to the low ways which the legal profession adopts 
to make a living." 

“ Mabel, among the noblest men that have ever lived, 
have been lawyers; and I believe that no profession offers 
the high and noble mind so many inducements as that of 
the law. Mr. Megalogaster has not changed my views; but 
he has resurrected some of my dormant superstition. The 
superstitions of childhood are not easily eradicated." 

A few days after this, I called on the leading, legal firm 
in the city. While I was sitting in conversation with one of 
the partners, a gentleman entered. He was immediately 
shown to a private room, where there was another partner; 
and as soon as the door was closed, the partner with me 
said, “ There goes another victim, another bird to be 
plucked." “ Is it possible," I said to myself, “ that I am to 
practice a profession in which I must victimize my fellow- 
man ! Can I possibly say of my clients, there goes another 
victim ! ” It mattered not where I went, or what I did, the 
words of the lawyer rang in my ears. “ There goes another 
victim." 

After thinking the matter over for six days, and through 
Mabel’s constant persuasion to go back into the ministry, I 
finally said to her: “ Mabel, I have determined partly to 
carry out your advice. If the bishop wilt give a man of 
my views work, I will go back again. But before I do this, 

I am determined to go out into the wilderness, and take up 
some land. A few months there will bring me health, and 
security for my family; so that, if all things else fail, we 
could make our home there. I will let you and the children 
go to your parents for a month, until I can make proper 
preparations to have you with me. The family must, if pos- 
sible, live on the land, in order to acquire title. I will start 
for Wheatland to-night, and you shall go to your parents. 


* 3 2 ° 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


If the life on the prairie is rough, it will be the better for 
the both of us: it will make us strong, and give us a recrea- 
tion.” 

In accordance with my determination, we left Philopolis, 
on the night of the 22nd of April, I for the state of Wheat- 
land, and my family for the state of Jefferson. We rode 
together until about midnight, when we came to the point 
of separation, where I should take the west-bound train, 
leaving my family to pursue their journey south. Over and 
over did I kiss them before I left the cars, for the parting 
from my wife was like tearing my heart out. But I had de- 
termined to secure myself, as I thought, by acquiring title 
to land, before I would again enter on church work. So 
bidding them all good-by, I stepped out of the cars. On 
dashed the train bearing away as rich a treasure as mortal 
ever possessed; and as the sound of the locomotive died 
away, I felt so unutterably lonely, and so sick at heart, that 
I should have fallen on the platform, had I not taken a seat. 
Finally I heard the shrill whistle of the locomotive, as it 
was nearing the next station; and it seemed to me to say: 
“ Harry, my love, take courage, and be strong for the sake 
of the little ones and me; your Mabel will soon see you 
again.” And in my soul I answered, “ I will.” 

I was not long in going to Gleichville, Wheatland. At 
this place I made the acquaintance of the Rev. Dr. Simple- 
heart who was in charge of the Episcopal church there. 
He was a good old man, and sought in every way to aid 
me; but I was notable to find near this town such land as 
I liked. I therefore determined to go on to Prahlville; and 
on Saturday, April 28th, I settled on a piece of land about 
ten miles from the town, returning to Gleichville in the 
evening. The next day I preached by . invitation for Dr. 
Simpleheart to a good and very intelligent audience. In 
all my experience in the ministry, I never met a lovelier 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 


3 2r 


man than Dr. Simpleheart. He was very aged, very infirm; 
he has since passed away. I feel indebted to him, and sin- 
cerely hope that, rid of all his infirmity brought on through 
length of days, he may be living in renewed youth. Nor 
can I help wishing that some day I may see him again. 

In about seven weeks I felt prepared to have my wife 
and children with me ; and on Sunday, June ioth, they 
arrived at Prahlville, where I was awaiting them with my 
horse and carriage. That evening we left the town for our 
little home, on the wide prairie. Darkness came upon us 
very suddenly ; and to make it worse, it began to rain. I 
knew I was very near the house, yet the darkness was so 
impenetrable, that I could not discern the way. The rain 
was increasing, the night air was chilly ; I dared not expose 
my family any longer than possible. So coming upon a lit- 
tle house belongingto some absent settler, we gladly entered 
it, and took possession for the night. At day-break I point- 
ed out our house to Mabel, and in about thirty minutes we 
were there. -She laughed as she entered it, calling it “ the 
house that Jack built ; ” nevertheless, it was one of the best 
on the prairie, and was strongly built. But,0 my God ! 
Thou knowest it was not such as I would have brought my 
wife into, could I have had a better one. But I had such 
as Thou hadst given me ; and such as I had, gave I unto 
her. 

In about two weeks after the arrival of Mabel, I had as 
much land plowed as the law required, and one acre more ; 
and on it I planted corn, potatoes, and such other vegeta- 
bles as we thought we would most need. 

Our residence on the land would have been much more 
pleasant than it was, had it not been for the great difficulty 
we experienced in getting water, which we had to fetch from 
a distance of not less than three miles. To obviate this 
difficulty, I sought to obtain water on our own land, by 


21 


3 22 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


boring several holes from fifty to sixty feet deep. In none 
of these holes did I find water except one. At this place I 
sank a pit four feet wide, four feet long, and nearly sixty 
feet deep. When my labor was finished, the supply of water 
proved totally inadequate for anything, and soon disappear- 
ed altogether. After this I made no further attempts to 
find water on my land. By November month, however, 
water had been found on the north, south, and west of me ; 
but none was found nearer than a mile and a half from our 
residence, the purest being three miles away. From the 
fact that water had been thus found on nearly all sides of 
me, I doubted not that it was also to be found on my land ; 
but it required more experience than I had, to select a 
locality, where water would probably be found. I contin- 
ued, therefore, to fetch water with my horse and carriage, 
which proved a work as unpleasant as necessary, when the 
cold weather came. 

It was my desire to homestead the quarter-section of 
land adjoining mine on the north ; but Mabel always 
pleaded my unfitness for farming, and the unfitness of farm- 
ing for me. By homesteading the quarter-section of land 
referred to, I should have acquired title to three hundred 
and twenty acres of first-class farm land ; and I believed I 
could make a good living on it, freed from those causes 
which, in the pulpit, had caused me so much worry and 
pain. But dear Mabel thought differently ; and by her I 
was persuaded to address my bishop, and ask for a field of 
labor. 

On the 31st day of October, 1883, our little Wini- 
fred was born. The dear little darling came into the world, 
perfect and beautiful, rude as the dwelling was in which she 
was born. But the costly nature of the dwelling, adds noth- 
ing to the purity and beauty of the child ; but as the bright- 
est star may shed its beams on the most inhospitable region, 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 323 

so the ^infant, born to be the most like God, may come into 
the world in a manger. Yes, Winifred was perfect, and very 
beautiful ; but little did that innocent child know, it was to 
be the cause of devastating two lives. I hear her voice now, 
as I write these lines ; she runs to my side, and asks for a 
kiss. She has the large black eyes of dear Mabel, and the 
loveliness of her mother’s countenance ; but dear as the 
child is, so much as I love her, yet her very presence would 
seem to make my soul yearn the more for what I have for- 
ever lost. Break not, O heart of flesh ! Bruised as thou 
art, God is a great physician. 

The mother did well for the first two or three weeks ; 
but at the end of that time, the right leg began to swell, and 
finally to pain her. It was not long before it was almost 
twice its natural size. Some physicians regarded it as a 
milk-leg, others thought it was not. The bloom of health 
soon began to fade from the cheeks of my dear Mabel ; and 
with its disappearance, died all my earthly happiness. The 
weakness of my wife, and her failure to gather strength, 
made me more readily acquiesce in her wishes to leave the 
land. I therefore determined to return to my bishop who 
had already offered to do his very best in seeing me com- 
fortably located. 

Having proved up on Saturday, December 8th, 1883, I 
paid for the land the sum of two hundred dollars ; and on 
Monday, the 17th of the same month, we left Wheatland for the 
residence of Mabel’s parents, in the state of Jefferson. On 
the day we left, it snowed for the first time that season, and 
the wind blew cold and hard. Had it not been for the ar- 
rangements I had made with those who had come to move 
our furniture, I certainly would not have undertaken the 
task of travelling from ten to twelve miles in such weather, 
my wife being no stronger than she was ; but as it was, we 
thought it was impossible to postpone our departure. Ma- 


3 2 4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


bel especially was longing to be away, and I desired to 
oblige her. Although we wrapped up as warmly aS possi- 
ble, I can not but believe that it was the long ride on that 
cold day which sealed the fate of my dear Mabel, and rob- 
bed me of my life. I fancy now that I should have known 
better. But who of us, as we think of our past life, does 
not fancy he might, in many instances, have bettered his 
judgment, or acted more wisely ? Man readily blames him- 
self for evils that have happened to his departed friends ; 
and although such self-recrimination can do the departed 
no good, but does the sufferer much harm, there seems to 
be a kind of pleasure derived from such self-inflicted 
wounds. Indeed, man is given almost to imagine himself a 
murderer, when the dear ones whose actions depend in a 
measure on his judgment, meet with an untimely fate ; 
although, had he to do again what he blames himself for 
having so unwisely done, he would, perhaps, be unable to 
do as well as he did. But where so great love for the dead 
exists, there must there continue to be self-reprovings, and 
there must there be the silent, corroding thought, that, had 
it been well done, when ’twas done, then it were well : 
“ Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.” 
Such a cry is but a natural vent for pent-up human woe. 

It was in no sense an inactive life I led in Wheatland ; 
for in addition to the work I did on the land, I was never 
without the companionship of my books. It was here that I 
became more thoroughly conversant with the works of 
Plato who spoke as but few men ever spoke, and, perhaps, 
with wisdom equal to that of any, on the great mysterious 
problems of life and death. Who sets forth in more glow- 
ing terms the value of justice and wisdom, or the danger of 
injustice and ignorance ? Who among the world’s prophets 
has given us a higher conception of God ? Who has left us 
a higher conception of man ? He who would answer these 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 325 

questions truthfully, or not at all, will, in my opinion, keep 
silence, if he wishes not to disturb the belief, that truth and 
righteousness were first made known by Jesus Christ. For 
who could believe this, after hearing Plato say : 

“ dto xai za peyaXa dp.apzrjpaza xai adixrjpaza apixpozeocv 
£tvai xprj vopi^eiv xaxov Tzaa^eiv^ rj dpaaai. 

“ Our ap avzadixeiv dec ooze xaxws avznzoieiv oudeva avOpouzwv, 
vud' av c otiouv Tzaa'/r^ ''utz' aurwv. 

“ xai dsoiS apa e/Opos eazai c o adixos , o ds dixaios <pdos. 

tc Oux apa TzavTu)v ys aiziov to ayadov , aXXa tujv p.sv eu s^ovtujv 
■ aiziov , tu)v de xaxcov avaiztov. 

“ Therefore, to suffer the greatest evils and injustice, 
must be considered a less evil than to do them. 

“ It is not right to return to man injustice for injustice, 
nor to do him evil for evil, no matter what one may suffer 
from their hands. 

“And to God the unjust man is hateful, while the just 
man is dear to Him. 

“ Nor is the Good (God) the cause of all things, but of 
the good only, and not of the evil.” (Epis. vii ; Crito x, 14, 
16 ; Civitas i, 352 ; ii, 379.) 

Again, in his Civitas (i, 351), he tells us that no state can 
continue to exist without justice; and in his Apology 
(xxix, xxi), he says that evil is much more to be feared than 
death, as death can not possibly bring the good man any 
harm, since it must bring him either an eternal sleep, or 
introduce him to a better life. 

As I became more fully acquainted with the works of 
Plato and Aristotle, I felt more and more offended at the 
shameful injustice done these great and noble teachers by 
Christian ministers of all ages. If the very essence of jus- 
tice consists in the giving to each his own, surely the aver- 
age Christian minister has none too much of this virtue. 
Sunday after Sunday is Christ quoted as the author of say- 


326 the evolution of a life. 

ings and teachings which had been said and taught ages be- 
fore he came into the world. What a discovery is this to the 
sincere and thoughtful soul who hitherto has imagined that 
the world was in gross darkness prior to the coming of 
Christ ! Such sayings and teachings quoted in proof of 
Christ’s divinity, lose all their value, for this purpose, when 
it becomes known that the same, or similar, were taught by 
teachers who had long preceded him. The more I studied 
the ancient philosophers, the less did I find it necessary to 
refer the moral principles of the New Testament to Christ 
as their real author ; and the same may be said of all, or 
nearly all, its more distinctively religious principles. As I 
listened, I heard older voices than that of John the Baptist, 
crying “ Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand ; ” 
and older voices than that of Jesus, saying : “ Fear not 

little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you 
the kingdom.” 

The just man can not take from a more ancient author 
what is really his, and attribute it to Christ ; nor could 
Christ, as a good and just man, be pleased at such robbery. 
But however much Christ would be offended at the act, the 
Christian priest still goes on, refusing to grant unto Caesar, 
in his poverty, what is evidently his, although it be but to 
add a denarius to the store of a reputedly infinite being. 

While I have here referred exclusively to ancient philo- 
sophers, it must not be understood thereby that I lightly 
regard the great benefits resulting from the spread of con- 
temporary science ; on the contrary, I see in very many of 
these philosophers great saviors of humanity, and in modern 
scientific discoveries such blessings as the ancients might 
have longed to possess, and longed in vain. But I have re- 
ferred exclusively to ancient thinkers, lest the reader should 
suppose that those to whom reference has been made, might 
have been affected by Christian teachings or sentiments. 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 327 

No candid person can suppose that Aristotle who died 
three hundred and twenty-two years before Christ was born, 
could have been influenced by Christian teaching , and his 
writings are a gospel in themselves. Still further removed 
from all Christian influences was Plato, Aristotle’s teacher, 
who left the world three-hundred and forty-seven years be- 
fore Christ came into it ; and many a gospel might be taken 
from the writings of this noble man, and not a little of the 
Christian gospels is contained therein. Contemporary 
philosophers have many advantages over their ancient 
brethren ; nevertheless, in beauty of diction, sublimity of 
thought, reverence of mind, and moral worth, the ancients 
have never been, and are not likely to be, surpassed. What 
they did, they did well. We are told that the great Lord 
Burleigh always carried, in his breast-pocket, Aristotle’s 
Rhetoric and Cicero’s de Offlciis, and that he thought these 
two works sufficient “ to make both a scholar and an honest 
man.” In some respects, however, the ancient philosophers 
had advantages over their modern brethren. In their days 
the scholar was more highly respected, and much less em- 
barrassed with the cares of a life whose demands seem to 
increase, as the years roll on. Nevertheless, he who would 
find a prophet, or a preacher of righteousness, or “ the voice 
of one ctying in the wilderness,” can readily do so in the 
great and noble thinkers of the present age. It is true, the 
work of some has been in general antagonistic to prevailing 
thought, and, therefore, so-called destructive ; but it should 
not be forgotten, that it may be much wiser to tear down a 
structure, and build anew on its foundation, or on a firmer 
one, than to repair it. Moreover, the blows these so-called 
destructionists have struck, have been aimed at images false 
to the reality, at ideas the product of over-wrought imagi- 
nation, at doctrines and dogmas not founded in truth. To 
such destructionists the good and true man can only wish 


3 28 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


long life and success, in their effort to break down the 
images “ set up in every high hill, and under every green 
tree." But, besides such writers, the past century has wit- 
nessed many a constructive worker giving to the world gos- 
pels purified from the filth of superstition, and cleansed 
from the foul impurities of priestly influence. Let honor 
be given these voices of God, for the gospel they preach, 
and the light they shed on our path ; but it should not be 
supposed that the destructionist is less honorable than the 
constructionist ; for the former goes before, and clears the 
way, to make straight the path of the latter. They are both 
great powers of God ; they are both his servants sent forth 
with a message to a world boasting of its light, but groping 
in gross darkness ; and they each alike help to bring about 
the day, when all men shall see the glory of God, in the ele- 
vation of the race ; when all nations shall be recognized as 
God’s chosen people, and not the Jews and Christians only; 
when the road to heaven shall be as broad as the pulsating 
heart of humanity, beating after its God ; when the possi- 
bility of progress shall be declared as continuing as long as 
God and creation exist. That day is fast approaching ; and 
when it comes, much of the joys of heaven will be experi- 
enced on earth, much of the lamentations of hell be hushed 
forever. The more I contemplated the work of the great 
and good of old, the more was I offended at a doctrine that 
regarded them as outside the pale of God’s elect ; and the 
more I regarded the purity of their lives, and their love for 
the truth, the less I felt inclined to preach a doctrine which, 
while it opens wide the Father’s arms to the Christian prod- 
igal, declares even the noblest heathen to be in danger of 
eternal damnation. At the time I left the land, the sense of 
the oneness of humanity was so strong in me, that I could 
not doubt that the love wherewith the Father loved me, was 
equally extended to all my brother-men. Even the thought 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 329 

that God might elect the one, and pass over the other, would 
give me pain. I saw on earth one great object of God’s 
care — humanity ; I saw in the spirit-world one object of 
human prayer and praise — God. Whether they call Him 
Jahve or Jove, Deus or Zeus, El or Allah, Woden or Manito, 
Brahm or the Spirit, Gott or the Good ; whether they wor- 
ship Him in costly temples, with priests decked with gold 
and precious stones, or amidst stately trees, using the blue, 
arched roof of heaven as their temple’s top ; whether in 
deep humility, with ashes upon their head, or with self- 
inflicted lacerations, — to me it was evident that in all cases 
the intent of the soul is the same — the worship of Him who 
under however many names or forms He may be known or 
conceived, is recognized by all as the Life, the Strength, the 
Lord, the Savior, and the Father of men. Knowing these 
things I hesitated greatly in resuming a work from the 
doing of which, it would be necessarily inferred, that either 
silently or openly I declared that outside the Christian 
church, there is no known hope of salvation. But through 
the persuasive voice of my dear Mabel, and the hope that I 
might be allowed to preach a wider faith, I left the land, 
once more to assume the work of a Christian priest. Had 
I followed out my own inclination, I should have home- 
steaded the quarter-section of land north of me, had title to 
three-hundred and twenty acres of land, and gotten an 
honest living out of mother Earth, from whom we have all 
sprung, and to whom we must all return. In leaving the 
land, I acted against my judgment ; but I said in my heart: 
“ It may be this is the way the Lord is leading me. I will 
spread my sails, and yield to the wind that drives me ; per- 
chance I may carry a precious cargo to feed the hungry, and 
clothe the naked, and finally, when my voyage is over, find 
some haven of rest. Thou, Lord, seest me. I will go 


33 ° 


THE EVOLUTlOM OF A LIFE. 


trusting Thou hast sent me, and ready to do with my might 
whatever my hands may find to do.” 

In this spirit I left the land, to resume the work of a 
Christian priest. A thousand doubts and fears filled my 
anxious breast. I could not help remembering a little book 
which I had read in my infancy, entitled, the “ Heavenly 
Footman.” But it seemed that, instead of having two 
spirits, an evil and a good one, I had a thousand, each striv- 
ing to make me do his bidding. But as in mechanics a body 
can move but in one direction, though acted upon by a 
thousand forces, so with myself : the resultant of all my 
spiritual forces sent me back to the pulpit. 

But ready as I was to oblige the dear being who was 
called by my name, and anxious as I was to do the will of 
Him who sends every man into the world, I yet felt a pain 
at the thought of leaving the state of Wheatland. There I 
was conscious of a freedom for which I had longed. The 
broadness of the prairie, the clearness of the sky, the bright- 
ness of the sun and stars, the vividness of the lightning, the 
pealing of the thunder, the roaring of the wind, were all cal- 
culated to inspire independence of spirit, and freedom of 
action. As I looked over the vast and rolling plains, I would 
think of the broadness of God’s creation, and the narrowness 
of my creed which man had created, and often would deter- 
mine to rid myself of the shackles which bound me, and 
escape from the slave-master’s coils. The thought that I 
was free from bishops’ dictation, gave me a peculiar satis- 
faction ; and the knowledge that the home I lived in, how- 
ever humble, was my own, gave me a heart-felt pride. Should 
death there overtake me, it would find me ready ; and the 
earth that would receive me, was dearer than consecrated 
ground. No funeral dirge would have been said over my 
body ; no hollow, priestly prayers would have been given to 
the wind. As I should have died in peace, so without sham 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 33 1 

or pretense would I have been given to the earth to await 
my lot. The hypocrisy I had seen at the burial of the dead, 
had made very painful to me the thought, that such might 
be acted over the burial of my remains. Speaking of a time 
subsequent to this, I will here give an example of this hypo- 
crisy, which occurred in my parish in the state of Jackson. 
A colored woman known by the name of Aunt Lucy had 
died. Previous to my coming into the state, she had been 
baptized by the Rev. Chrysophilus, rector of an adjoining 
parish ; and at her death she asked that he might be per- 
mitted to preach at her, funeral. As he had baptized her, she 
would be greatly pleased, she said, if I granted her this 
request. After her death, I invited Mr. Chrysophilus to do 
as she had requested, at the same time informing him that 
I would see to the liquidation of whatever expenses he 
might incur by his coming. The expense of his coming, 
however, would be very light, as his parish was very near 
mine, and free entertainment would be given him. Mr. 
Chrysophilus delivered his remarks in the room where the 
corpse lay, in the presence of a great many negroes. Being 
a very poor preacher, it was natural that but few whites 
would wish to hear him. After the preliminary services we 
departed for the cemetery. On our way to the burial- 
ground Mr. Chrysophilus was merry and jocust, even given 
to levity. On arrival at the cemetery, he asked if I would 
permit him to bury the dead. I replied, “No, sir ; among my 
own people I always bury the dead. While they are living 
I do my best for them ; when they are dead, I perform the 
last offices.” 

The rites were finished, and we had moved back a short 
distance from the grave, when Mr. Chrysophilus was handed 
a folded bill. I saw a wave of pleasure pass over his coun- 
tenance, as he took the money, and placed it in his pocket. 
We proceeded towards the gate, where our carriage awaited 


332 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


us; but before we reached it, Mr. Chrysophilus was forced to 
put his hand into his pocket, and draw forth the note, that 
he might know its worth. As he drew it forth, and saw it 
was a ten-dollar bill, he grunted out, “ Ha ! ha ! bless the 
Lord ! Very good, very good.” And without further com- 
ment, he put the bill back into his pocket. Now, every one 
should know that the money belonged to me, as well 
because I was the rector of the parish, as because I had per- 
formed most of the labor. It was his duty to give the 
money to me, and mine to see that he was paid for such 
assistance as he had rendered. As he was an old man, and 
almost eaten up with the love of money, I had fully made up 
my mind to present him with the bill, had he handed it over 
to me ; but as he did not, from that time I lost all respect 
for him. As this minister was without a sense of what was 
becoming, so was he selfish to the very heart. All the way 
to the cemetery, he talked of everything except of death or 
the grave ; and all the way to the rectory of everything 
except of handing me the money, or any portion of it. I 
never spoke of this dishonorable act to him ; but I could 
never again invite so base a man into my parish. 

It was the like of this action that had made me resolve, 
while in Wheatland, to be buried without priestly rites, 
should I there resign my breath. There are, however, some 
good and true men in the ministry. Such are a comfort to 
the dying, and render desirable services at the burial of the' 
dead. 

The last evening we passed on the land, was a solemn 
one with us. Where should we be sent ? To what unknown 
land were our feet tending ? Would our going be a blessing 
or a curse? As these questions came to us, we could but 
pray, as we knelt before the God of the universe, in our 
humble home, on that boundless prairie : 

“ O merciful Father, direct our uncertain feet. Strengthen 


SEEK REST IN THE WILDERNESS. 


333 


our minds to know thy will, and our hearts to do it. Fill 
us, O God, with thyself that, our souls being purified by thy 
most glorious presence, our thoughts may arise clean and 
pure, as water from the living and limpid spring. Take not 
thy holy presence from us, O most merciful Father. Dark 
is the way, and chilly the night. Lighten our paths, and 
warm our hearts, O God of our fathers. Look in pity on 
the dear little babes Thou hast given us, and on the mother 
whom Thou hast so greatly honored, in permitting her to 
give them life. We bless Thee, we glorify Thee, we give 
thanks unto Thee, for ever having known each other, and 
more for each other’s love. Oh, let our lives be precious in 
thy sight. From Thee nothing is hidden, to Thee all is 
apparent ; and on Thee we hang, as the babe on its mother’s 
breast. Hungry, Lord, we cry to Thee for food ; thirsty, 
we come to Thee for drink ; weary, we come to Thee for 
rest. In the darkness that surrounds us, we reach out our 
hands to Thee. Take them, Lord of creation, and lead us 
where Thou wilt ; for if only Thou art with us, the desert 
shall blossom as the rose. Feed us, merciful Father, with 
the bread of heaven ; assuage our thirst with the waters of 
life. And as we go forth from this our humble dwelling, 
lift up the light of thy countenance upon us, and give us 
peace, for the sake of the souls which Thou has created, and 
because of thy great love towards thy creation.” Amen. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THANATEGUS. 

We arrived safely at the residence of MabePs parents, on 
Monday, December 24th. We had a festive Christmas 
around the hearthstone of a happy family. Yet our joy was 
not altogether unmixed with sadness ; for the face of our 
darling Mabel was unusually pale, and the light from her 
large, black eyes seemed to come from the depths of an un- 
known world. But her mellow voice, and graceful form 
were with us ; and the belief that over her beautiful features 
the rich hue of health would soon again spread, largely re- 
moved our anxiety. 

I remained with the happy family for five days, when I 
left for the city of Kirkton, in the state of Franklin, the 
residence of my diocesan. The bishop was very glad to see 
me, and recommended me highly to the wardens of St. James 
parish in the city of Thanategus. “Go right up there,” he 
said, “ Mr. Bray. It is a nice city, and one of the best par- 
ishes in the diocese. I have sent a good account of you to 
the wardens, and you can not fail to have a good reception.” 
I did as the bishop advised me, holding my first service 
there, on Sunday, January 6th. The people were greatly 
pleased with the services, and I was pleased with the place; 
and being called by the wardens and vestrymen, on Monday, 
January 7th, to assume the rectorship, I accepted the posi- 
tion, my salary to commence from the first of the month 
then current. 

Thanategus was a very pretty city built on the lake 
shore, and containing about nine thousand inhabitants; and 

334 


THANATEGUS. 


335 


the Episcopal church there had among its communicants 
some of the best and most worthy people, it has ever been 
my fortune to know. 

It was not long before I had everything in readiness for 
the coming of my dear wife, who although she ever mani- 
fested the deepest affection for her parents, yet longed to be 
with me. On Monday, January 21st, she left her parents, 
arriving at Thanategus the next day ; and never was I more 
happy for anything than for receiving her once more into 
my arms. The three weeks she had been absent from me, 
seemed as if they were three years, so fully were my life and 
happiness centered in her. Apart from her, my eye was 
dull, my heart was heavy ; but in her presence, my soul was 
aglow with hope, and my heart would leap for joy. 

Our home was situated on high land, and surrounded by 
a very pretty yard carpeted with grass, and decked with 
trees and flowers. The air was pure, the water was health- 
ful, and the scenery was pleasing ; and while here, my lovely 
wife seemed to improve. Early in June, however, the parish 
thought it best that we should occupy the rectory which had 
hitherto been rented, but now had become vacant. Al- 
though the people of the parish had had the residence 
cleansed, we had no sooner become settled in it, than Mabel 
began to complain of the foulness of the air arising from the 
cellar. After some labor, the cause of this foulness was 
largely removed ; but my darling wife continued to droop 
as a flower. The house had been built on low, damp 
ground, and there was no room for proper conveniences. 
Previous to our occupancy, that which was used for personal 
convenience, was a brick vault about fifteen or twenty feet 
deep, and closely connected with the house. The same had 
been used for many years for such purposes, although the 
vault was not more than twenty-five feet from the well which 
yielded the drinking-water. On my entering the parsonage, 


336 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


I refused to use the vault for the purposes referred to, and 
persuaded the officers of the parish to have it filled up. But 
whether well founded or not, my opinion has ever been that 
dear Mabel suffered from noxious vapors arising from under 
and around the parsonage, and more especially from the 
use of the water drawn from the well. It is true that many 
others drank the same water, with apparent impunity ; but 
it is also true that Mabel was in no condition to stand what 
many others might. That the water must have been con- 
taminated by the proximity of the well to the vault referred 
to, I think no person qualified to judge will doubt for a mo- 
ment ; and that serious consequences might follow the 
drinking of such water, especially in the case of a person 
whose blood had already been vitiated, must readily be ad- 
mitted. We little thought of our danger, however ; and no 
one sought to remove it. Still, day by day the beautiful 
Mabel withered away, as a flower scorched by a burning 
sun. 

There was yet another thing which, in my opinion, had a 
bad effect on Mabel’s health. Three months before our 
coming into the rectory, the physician advised her to cease 
nursing the baby, on the ground, as he said, that it did the 
baby no good, and depleted the mother’s strength. After 
she had done as the physician had advised her, she fre- 
quently would say : “ Oh, Harry, you can’t possibly imagine 
the comfort I have lost, in being deprived of the pleasure of 
nursing the baby ! It was such a joy to hold the dear little 
thing to my breast ! Just think of it being nursed by a 
bottle! It nearly kills me to see it.” I have no doubt that 
the being deprived of this pleasure, had a very injurious 
effect on Mabel’s mind, and indirectly on her body. My 
own belief was that the pleasure she would have derived 
from nursing the child, would have more than compensated, 
in her case, for any nourishment she would have yielded it, 


THANATEGUS. 


337 


weak as she was ; and if, as the physician held, the lacteal 
secretion was hurtful rather than beneficial, still I insisted 
the object to be aimed at, was the life of the mother rather 
than that of the child. I believed, and believe to-day, that 
nursing the infant would have strengthened her determina- 
tion to regain her health. What can prompt the mother to 
greater exertion than the thought that her infant depends 
on her ? What can impart to her greater joy than the smile 
of the child at her breast ? None but the mother knows 
such pleasure, and none like the father rejoices at it. Not- 
withstanding all I have said, it may be the physician was 
right. He was a kind-hearted and good man ; and in act- 
ing as he did, he carried out his professional judgment, 
which should be considered of more value than that of the 
mere lay-man. 

Mabel was greatly beloved by the people of the parish. 
Said Mr. Pomposity one day: “ Mr. Bray, where did you 
get your wife ? ” 

“ I married my wife, sir,” I replied, “in the state of Jef- 
ferson.” 

“ Well, I want to say,” he answered, “ that I have never 
in my life before looked into such a face as she possesses. 
The sight of it, in the church, is enough to set every man 
and woman a-worshipping. Such serenity and loveliness I 
have never before seen in the face of a human being. You 
have a prize in her, Mr. Bray. She is the admiration of the 
whole parish. I have attended the services of the Episco- 
pal church from boyhood, although I don’t believe in the 
dogmas of Christianity; but it is many years since I felt so 
much like worship, as on last Sunday, and the sight of your 
wife did it.” 

“ I am glad the people like my wife, Mr. Pomposity,” 
I replied. “I assure you she is worthy of their love; for 


22 


338 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


none can have a purer heart, a more lovable disposition, or 
a devouter mind. She is, indeed, a great blessing to me.” 

“ I believe all you say, Mr. Bray. She is certainly very 
beautiful, and she possesses the most striking countenance 
I have ever seen. Having said so much about your wife, 
Mr. Bray, I wished to say I liked your sermon last Sunday. 
It contained a good measure of common-sense, one of the 
rarest virtues of the pulpit. I should judge from your dis- 
course that you have given up faith in the miraculous part 
of Christianity, something which I myself have long since 
done.” 

“ I try, Mr. Pomposity, to build as little as possible on 
such dogmas as you refer to, not regarding them as suffi- 
ciently well authenticated.” 

“Sufficiently well! Nonsense, Mr. Bray! You know 
well enough that they are as false as absurd. Would you 
ask me to believe in the immaculate conception of Jesus 
Christ ? Then I must conclude that man is not man, that 
woman is not woman, that nature is not a harmony but a 
confusion, and that God is not immutable but self-contra- 
dictory; and all this must I believe on the authority of a 
few pages of writing not much less uncertain or untrust- 
worthy than the Arabian Nights. It offends me greatly that 
any minister, through ignorance or fear, should dare preach 
such stuff in the presence of the average congregation. I 
am sure that if Jesus Christ wasn’t the son of his mother’s 
husband, he was illegitimate born ; and this latter I do not 
believe. That the ignorant followers of Jesus might possi- 
bly have believed in his divine conception, is no reason 
whatever that I should believe in it ; for in like manner 
were the founders of many other religions supposed to have 
been divinely conceived. Indeed, in early days immaculate 
conceptions were common, for it was nothing unusual for 
gods to have union with women. The world has been full 


THANATEGUS. 


339 


of incarnations of deity. It is, therefore, nothing strange 
that the founder of Christianity should have been regarded 
as an incarnate god, or that foolish people should so regard 
him to-day. Such belief I have long ago given to the 
wind, with the whale that swallowed Jonah, and the sun 
that stood still at the command of Joshua. In the name of 
common-sense, I hope to hear you speak of something far 
different ; and judging from what I heard last Sunday, I 
should say my hopes are well founded. There is enough 
to talk about, when the fables are left out.” 

“The great majority of Christian people, Mr. Pomposity, 
do not agree with you ; and it is hard to cast to the wind, 
though they are but chaff, the dogmas which the average 
member of the church regards as the very foundation of all 
his hopes. I have but little, if any, faith in miracles, no 
matter by whom they may be said to have been performed ; 
but in this matter I am clearly in advance of the great 
majority of ministers ; and this fact makes my position a 
trying one. It is true I find sufficient in Christianity to 
speak about, after I leave out the legions of devils, its fall 
of man, its divine conceptions, its story of creation, the 
golden streets of its heavenly Jerusalem, and the smoke of 
the torment of its hell ; but only the better educated of the 
ministry agree with me in this matter, and most of them 
prefer not to disturb existing belief. To do so they know 
is to expose themselves to the murmurings of the ignorant 
portions of their congregations, and to the vengeance of 
their bishops whose power and prestige depend largely on 
the faithful reception of the monstrous fables of Chris- 
tianity. You are not saved by belief in the immaculate 
•conception ; but rather by living as he lived, who is said to 
have been immaculately conceived. I am not able to 
accept the doctrine that I am saved by believing that Jesus 
is the Most High ; rather do I firmly believe that I am 


340 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


saved by doing as Jesus did. He who lives as Jesus lived,, 
will surely receive of that Strength which made Jesus so 
strong. It is not by faith in Kreeshna, Jahve, Christ, or 
Allah that a man is saved, for surely devils believe andi 
tremble; but it is by doing the will of Him who sent us,, 
that you and I are called the children of God ; and the will 
of him who sent us, is to do with our might what we believe 
in our heart we should do. Thus living, we may make a. 
mistake ; but no other rule is near so sure to gauge cor- 
rectly the measure of our moral responsibility. He who 
lives up to it, whatever he thinks of the peculiar dogmas of 
Christianity, is surely on his way to a better life.” 

“ Mr. Bray, you mentioned the name of Kreeshna. What, 
is taught concerning this mythical personage ? ” 

“ Kreeshna, Mr. Pomposity, is one of the Brahminical 
names for the incarnate Deity. He is said in their sacred 
books to have dwelt on earth in mortal form, and thus tO' 
have delivered from his own lips to his chosen disciples the 
will of the infinite God. This name for the incarnate Deity 
more especially appears in the sacred book called the Bha- 
gavadgita, a work which Sir Warren Hastings pronounced of 
the greatest originality, sublime conception, reason and dic- 
tion; as containing a theology corresponding with that of 
the Christian dispensation, and most powerfully illustrating 
its fundamental principles. It is the real bible of the Brah- 
mins, and is believed by them to contain all the sacred mys- 
teries of their religion, delivered by the mouth of God him- 
self. It stands largely in the form of a dialogue wherein 
the chief speaker is Kreeshna, the incarnate God. It every- 
where teaches the unity of God who is represented as the 
Universal Soul immanent in all things. Concerning immortal- 
ity it says: ‘ As a man throweth away old garments, and 
putteth on new, even so the soul, having quitted its mortal 
frames, entereth into others which are new. The weaponi 


THANATEGUS. 


341 


*divideth it not, the fire burneth it not, the water corrupt- 
ed it not, the wind drieth it not away: it is eternal, 
universal, permanent, indivisible, inconsumable, incor- 
ruptible, and is not to be dried away.’ Concerning 
•our duty it says: ‘Be free from duplicity, and stand 
firm in the path of truth, and turn thy mind to things 
'which are spiritual. Be not one whose motives for action is 
the hope of reward. Let not thy life be spent in inaction. 
Depend upon application, perform thy duty, and abandon 
all thoughts of the consequence.’ Whatever we may think 
of the origin of the Bhagavadgita, much of its teachings are 
■certainly sublime.” 

“ Did this Kreeshna, Mr. Bray, call himself God ? ” 

“ He is certainly represented as doing so, Mr. Pompos- 
ity. In speaking of himself he says: ‘Although in my nat- 
ure I am not subject to birth or decay, and am the Lord of 
.all creation, yet, having command over my own nature, I am 
made evident by my own power. Thus I appear from age 
to age, for the preservation of the just, the destruction of 
the wicked, and the establishment of virtue. Mankind was 
■created by me. Know me then to be the creator of mankind, 
uncreated and without decay. He who beholdeth me in all 
things, and beholdeth all things in me, I forsake not him, 
and he forsaketh not me. The man who believeth in unity, 
and worshippeth me present in all things, dwelleth in me in 
all respects, even whilst he liveth. All things hang on me 
•even as precious stones hang upon a string. I am dear to the 
wise man, and he is dear to me. I am the holy one worthy 
to be known. I am the comforter and the creator. I am 
the same to all mankind. They who serve me with adora- 
tion, I am in them, and they in me. I am the creator of all 
things, and from me all things proceed.’ These words 
:spoke Kreeshna of himself, Mr. Pomposity, and thus speaks 
Arjoon of him, his favorite disciple: ‘I behold, O God! 


342 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


within thy breast, the Dews assembled, and every spe- 
cific tribe of beings. O universal Lord, form of the uni- 
verse ! Thou art the Supreme Being, incorruptible, and; 
worthy to be known. Have mercy then, O God of Gods 1 
thou mansion of the universe ! Reverence be unto thee, G 
thou who art all in all ! Infinite is thy power and thy glory.’ 

“ Concerning what the good man may expect after death, 
the Bhagavadgita says: ‘ No man who hath done good, 
goeth to an evil place.’ The Bhagavadgita is truly a won- 
derful work, and one which had been in existence many 
hundreds of years, when Christianity was first introduced; 
and its contents are conclusive proof that God is no re- 
specter of persons, and that He is not far from any of us.”' 

“ Do you believe, then, Mr. Bray, that the book you refer 
to, is a revelation from God ? ” 

“ In one sense, yes, sir; in another sense, no. I believe 
in the words of Zoroaster: 

w 4 Tov de voet nas vous Oeov, ou yap aveo 
Nous Effri vorjTou , xai to votjtov ou vou %u>pis U7zap%£t. 
Ovopara ftapftapa prjizor aAAafys, 

Eiai yap ovopara Tzap ’ ‘exaarocs OsoadoTa . — 

“‘But every mind knoweth God; for the mind is 
not without the Intelligible, neither is the Intelligible 
without the mind. Never change barbarous names, for 
there are names given from God in every nation.’ 

“ While I believe no book is a direct revelation from God, 
I yet believe that the fundamental and universal principles 
of religions are true, and that they are the natural result of 
the Universal Spirit dwelling in man as a part of creation. 
In this sense does every sacred book contain some eternal 
truth, some revelation. In other words, they are revelations, 
as any other part of nature is a revelation, no more, and no 
less.” 

“ I have noticed, Mr. Bray, that there are many things in 


THANATEGUS. 


343 


nature hurtful rather than beneficial. In every flower-gar- 
den there are weeds, in every field of wheat there are fre- 
quently many destructive insects. So if those religious 
principles are simply a result of nature, they may be false.” 

“ The weeds, sir, to which you refer, would not have re- 
ceived your notice, were there not flowers to be injured by 
their presence; and you would never seek to kill the insects, 
were there no precious wheat to be destroyed. So in relig- 
ious principles: if the destructive is there, so is the useful; 
if the weeds are there, so- are the flowers. The wheat and 
the flowers are those universal and eternal principles 
of religions, which the various faiths of the world em- 
body, and set forth; the weeds and the insects are those 
differentiating principles of religious faiths, concern- 
ing which the judgments of their respective adherents 
are so contradictory. Or the flowers and the wheat 
are those principles of religions that bind the different peo- 
ples of the world together in theological unity, while the 
weeds and the insects are those religious principles that 
set the different peoples of the world at theological va- 
riance. I would say, root up the weeds that the flowers may 
emit still greater fragrance; destroy the insects that the poor 
may have more bread to eat.” 

“ Might we not regard the various phases of religion, and 
even their contradictory tenets, as the outcome of different 
civilizations ? If so, would it be wise to destroy what you 
have said ? ” 

“ I would not say, destroy such, Mr. Pomposity ; but I 
would say, never regard those peculiarities of the various 
human natures and civilizations as essential to true religion, 
or to true and saving faith in God. Even the same plant 
will vary, when planted in various climates; and less we can 
not expect of human nature, as it everywhere strives to per- 
fect its character. We may permit the modifications as use- 


344 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


ful variations, but we must deny that the variation of one 
faith must be assumed by the others. When I say, destroy 
the variations of the religious idea, I only mean that we 
should destroy the spirit which regards the idea as dependent 
on the variation, and that we should cease to think of the 
religion of one people, as necessary to the well-being and 
happiness of another. The true God of one people, is the 
true God of all ; and the many gods of the various peoples, 
is the true God of none.” 

“ I am glad to hear such liberal sentiments, Mr. Bray, and 
I hope you will be brave enough to declare them. I am 
sick of hearing long-winded sermons on ancient myths, when 
there is such valuable matter all around us to base what we 
have to say on.” 

“ I am not much given to hide the thoughts of my heart, 
Mr. Pomposity; but this same open-mindedness may bring on 
me the ire of my bishop. Already he has written, praying 
me to be true to the faith. Our bishop is a good man, and 
I like him ; but he has less cause for listening to the voice 
of reason, and more for remaining in the house of bondage, 
than I have.” 

“ I have no place for the bishop, Mr. Bray. It is ridic- 
ulous to see his nonsense in the chancel. His bowings and 
genuflections are more than I can stand. He believes in the 
middle-ages. I doubt he knows the world moves. Such ac- 
tions in the chancel may be pleasing to some ; but, for my 
part, they appear obscene. I have never been confirmed, 
but I am not sorry ; for it seems to me, the further one is 
from the chancel, the better it is for his stomach’s sake.” 

“ I have always loved the chancel, Mr. Pomposity, and I 
love the holy communion. In that holy sacrament, the idea 
of blood-atonement has wholly passed from my mind. If it 
be true that Christ instituted it, I doubt not that it was sym- 
bolic of the offering up of himself as a sacrifice for the 


THANATEGUS. 


345 


truth, as he understood it. And if he commanded that we 
should do likewise, it was that we, his followers, should de- 
note by that act our consecration to a noble life, and our 
willingness to die for what we believe to be the truth. It is 
not the offering up of Christ, that the holy communion 
shows forth ; but rather the offering up of ourselves, our 
souls and bodies, unto God. So the value of the sacrament 
is not the offering up of Christ, but the offering up of the 
body and soul of the communicant. You and I can do this 
act at any time ; and, surely, it is but our bounden duty. 
While I live, I wish to hold myself ever ready to die for the 
truth. Such a life is a living sacrifice, and one well-pleasing 
to God. The sacrament, therefore, is not representative of 
a myth ; but it shows forth a real fact, that I then and there 
•offer myself unto God, a living sacrifice. Such an act is a 
noble one, and well calculated to strengthen the soul to live 
a pure and righteous life.” 

“ That is all very beautiful, Mr. Bray ; but the worst is 
that the church doesn’t agree with you in this matter. The 
church says : ‘ Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who of 

thy tender mercies didst give thine only Son Jesus Christ to 
-suffer death upon the cross for our redemption ; who made 
there a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and 
satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world ; and did insti- 
tute, and in his holy Gospel command us to continue, a per- 
petual memory of that his precious death, until his coming 
again ; Hear us, O merciful Father, we most humbly be- 
seech thee ; and grant that we receiving these thy creatures 
of bread and wine, according to thy Son our Savior Jesus 
Christ’s holy institution, in remembrance of his death and 
passion, may be partakers of his most blessed body and 
blood.’ Besides when the communicant receives the ele- 
ments from the hands of the priest, he is distinctly reminded, 
in the most solemn words, that it is the body and blood of 


346 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Christ which he takes. It is not ourselves that is offered in 
the holy communion, Mr. Bray, according to the church ; 
but that sacrament is representative of the oblation of Jesus 
Christ who, we are told, offered himself up once for the sins 
of the whole world. This doctrine I do not believe, nor can 
any sensible man. It is an unreasonable, unjust, and bloody 
doctrine. It might be acceptable to anthropophagists, but 
it can not be to thinking men. No, I will have nothing to 
do with such an absurd and nature-contradicting rite. If 
your idea were that of the church, I could accept it, and 
would try to be worthy of participating in such a sacrament; 
but I shall have to wait some time before your interpretation 
will prevail. May the time hasten when such a rational 
doctrine will be accepted. I see you’re impatient to go, and 
my business demands my presence. Our conversation must 
cease for the present. In parting, let me say to you, take 
good care of Mrs. Bray. She looks like a flower blooming* 
for another world, and we want her here.” 

It was not long after this conversation with Mr. Pom- 
posity, when Mabel and I visited a member of the parish, 
dangerously ill with cancer of the nose. We spent some 
time in conversation and prayer, and afterwards celebrated 
the holy eucharist. The poor creature appeared greatly 
comforted. She had been brought up in the Church of 
England, in Canada ; and had, from girlhood, been a com- 
municant of the church. She was hoping that her disease 
was not cancer, but she seemed to us already to be on the 
very verge of the grave. There was an almost unbearable 
odor escaping from her nostrils, which almost sickened me 
in the discharge of my duty ; and dear Mabel who at part- 
ing kissed her, for hours afterwards suffered for her affec- 
tionate act. 

After leaving the house of the invalid, we rambled for 


THANATEGUS. 


347 


some time among the sleeping dead. My lovely wife moved 
among the graves like a drooping lily. 

“ Harry,” she said, “ before I knew you, and for some 
time afterwards, I was greatly troubled with the fear of 
death. Do you know that that fear has entirely left me 
now? How peacefully the dead sleep here ! The flowers 
seem to put forth more beautiful hues, and shed a sweeter 
fragrance, blooming over such peaceful forms. It is said, 
‘ God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.’ I do 
not like that saying. I have no doubt that He is as much 
the God of the dead, as of the living. It may be the dead 
are even more alive than the living. Look at this tomb- 
stone, and at the inscription it bears: ‘ Sie schlaft in ruhe 
— she sleeps in peace.’ How many German names are 
here ! and how I love that language ! What a blessing to 
think that God knoweth no nation as such ! that all the 
sleeping dead, of whatever kindred or tongue, may rest in 
peace, watched over by Him ! I know that it is taught 
that only he who dies in Jesus, may hope to rest in peace. But 
I believe none has lived so well as he might have lived, and 
none so wickedly ; and that it is not the believer in this or 
that dogma, of whom after death it may be said, he rests in 
peace. Rather may it be said of him who in this life stood 
at his post of duty, and did what he could for himself and 
others, according to his own consciousness of what was 
right. I love the blessed Jesus, but I can not but believe 
that every man in the world, who lives up* to his own ideas 
of truth and right, will after death rest in peace. Surely, 
this is not the only world for rectifying our judgment ! 
How ignorant are the wisest of us ! how little our greatest 
strength ! What contradictions exist in the different 
denominations ! I thank God that I firmly believe that all 
Christians and heathens will be judged by the same rule of 
justice ; and that rule is, in my opinion, that we must do 


348 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


with our might what we believe we should do. If I 
believed anything less than this of the goodness and justice 
of God, I should be afraid to trust Him, afraid to die ; but 
I feel perfectly safe in trusting my body and soul to Him. 
If at any time I shall learn that I did wrong, wherein I 
thought I was right, I shall not be afraid, provided I can 
say, Dear Father, forgive me. I thought in doing what I 
did, I was doing thy will. 

“ This is a beautiful cemetery, Harry, sweetened by the 
fragrant breath of flowers. I like the thought of lying 
beside my people in my death ; but if I should die, I would 
like you to bury me here. It is a sweet place, and you and 
my children would be more likely to visit my grave. I 
want to live, darling Harry, for your sake ; but if I die, let 
me sleep in peace here.” 

“ My lovely Mabel, I trust you will not wither away as 
yet. To die would be gain to you, my sweet one ; but 
your death would be a cost to me that I could never pay. 
I pray the dear Father for my sake to spare your precious 
life ; for without you I fear I can not live. Fight hard for 
health, dear Mabel, for my sake. Courage, you know, is 
half the battle.” 

“ I will try to live, Harry, for your sake. I know you 
need me. But if I die, you must not give way. If God 
takes me from you, He will give you strength to do both 
your work and mine. He doeth all things well.” 

“ I do not doubt the goodness of God, my darling 
Mabel, and that you know right well ; but I can not bear to 
hear you talk of leaving me. I know when you go away to 
that better land, your sun will rise to, set no more forever ; 
but, O Mabel, my darling, mine will go down to rise no 
more. May God grant your translation may be long post- 
poned. Thou art ‘so conjunctive to my life and soul, 


THANATEGUS. 


349 


that as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but 
by ’ thee.” 

“ Harry, do you believe the dead know what the living 
do ? do you believe the one may aid the other ? ” 

“ Mabel, I have thought much on what you now ask. 
Concerning the future state we have no certain information. 
All we know is based on conjecture ; but I have never been 
able to see any valid reason, why I should not answer your 
question in the affirmative. The living can certainly aid 
one another ; and if the dead be not dead but living, I 
think it unreasonable to hold that the dead and the living 
are separated by an impassable gulf. The idea that they 
are, will not stand examination. There is no reason for 
believing that any other portion of infinite space is pro- 
vided with a better place for heaven than the part we now 
occupy. The spirit after death might move a thousand 
times swifter than the earth in her orbit, and still, in all 
probability, move for millions of years through space filled 
with suns and planets, similar to those we know, all obeying 
the law of gravitation, a law which we have every reason to 
believe, is universal. There must be a limit to swiftness of 
motion ; for a finite being can not be everywhere at once. 
It must, therefore, take a spirit some time to pass from one 
part of space to another ; and, for my part, I do not like 
to think of the soul, after death, as making a long 
and lonely journey through the burning or frozen regions of 
limitless space. Such an idea of death is well set forth by 
the immortal bard : 

“ Ay, but to die, and go we know not where, 

To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; 

This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; 

To be imprisoned in the viewless winds, 


35o 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendant world : or to be worse than worst 
Of those that lawless and uncertain thoughts 
Imagine howling, — ’tis too horrible. 

The weariest and most loathed worldly life 
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 

To what we fear of death.’ — [Measure for Measure.] 

“ The common idea is, that after death we pass some- 
where beyond the stars. The nearest star to us is Alpha 
Centauri. To reach it a cannon-ball would require more 
than three million years; and light, which moves at the rate 
of one hundred and ninety-two thousand m.iles a second, re- 
quires three and a half years to pass from it to us. 
By this I mean that if God were to blot out Alpha Centauri, 
it would still appear shining to us for three and a half years. 
The double star 61 Cygni requires a period of nine and a 
quarter years to transmit its light to us; and Capella re- 
quires more than eight times the period of the latter; while 
light from Alcyone, in all probability, is not less than five 
hundred years in coming to us. Nor have we any reason 
for supposing that beyond these distant worlds there are 
not others rolling, whose distances are as great from these, 
as the distances of these worlds are from us. The universe, 
as far as reason teaches, has no limits; and throughout its 
awful depths reign law and order, and the whole is filled 
with worlds in all stages of perfection, ruling and ruled like 
our own. At what point of space between Alcyone and the 
earth shall we fix the place where the average orthodox be- 
liever locates his heaven? and why should we fix an asylum 
for the departed spirits, in such far off regions that light re- 
quires more than five hundred years to cross? Is it to find 
its God ? I answer, I can not imagine any place more 
filled with deity than the space through which our earth now 
rolls. I conclude that there is no reason for supposing a 


THANATEGUS. 


351 


long and dreary journey, or a flight in angels’ bosoms, for the 
departed spirit, in order to find its place of rest. Heaven is 
is as likely here as elsewhere. Just where it is, none but mad- 
men has ever conjectured; but we can with as much reason 
fix it near the point of space we now occupy, as in any 
other. It is awful to think of a soul wending its way 
through the dreary abyss of infinite space, to find its resting- 
place. I rather like to think of the spirit-world as opening 
to the eyes and ears of our departing friends, as the scenes 
of this world disappear. Not to some far-off region do the 
spirits of the departed fly, ‘blown with restless violence 
round about the pendant world;’ but though hidden from 
our gaze, they may yet continue near us; and if so, why 
may they not aid us ? why may we not aid them ? I know 
we have no positive knowledge concerning the future world; 
but it is my faith that between the living and the dead there is 
no impassable gulf, except in states of being. I, therefore, 
pray for my departed dear ones, and I believe they pray for 
me. If prayer be of any value, it is foolishness to suppose 
that it avails nothing between the living and the dead. If 
I should die, I should hope to be able to watch over you, 
and inspire you with faith and trust; if you should die, I 
should pray for you, as I believe you would continue to pray 
for me. I will never believe that in death the soul eternally 
dies; and while I believe the soul in death does not die, I 
shall think it reasonable to believe that the dead know what 
the living do, and may help them in various ways, more es- 
pecially by inspiring them with high and noble thoughts. 
But, my darling, while I believe all this, and hope it true, I 
yet trust it will be many years before I shall have to ex- 
change the positive blessings of this known existence, which 
I now receive from your dear self, for the hoped-for bless- 
ings from a world unknown. Abide with me, Mabel, for 


352 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


when thou art near, I fear no foe; thy presence turneth 
my darkness into light.” 

“Your Mabel will abide with you, darling, if she can; 
but I was going to say, some of the teachings of the church 
about the departed are very comforting to me, but others 
are not so. I do not like, for instance, the idea of a fixed 
state.” 

“ I hardly think, dear Mabel, that a judgment so mis- 
taken and self-contradictory about things so easily known, 
can be considered of much value about things beyond the 
reach of human thought. The church whose ignorance and 
arrogance have led her to persecute, and put to death the 
purest and best the world has ever known, can not be trusted 
to decide for us concerning the future. Not a little of her 
teachings is the laughing-stock of the world, at least of all 
rational-minded men; and her teachings with reference to 
the unknown world, are probably as true as they have been 
concerning physical science, witchcraft, and heresy. Think 
what we will, dear Mabel, about the future state, I do not 
believe the King of glory is any less merciful and good than 
the King of earth. While we live, let us trust Him; when 
we die, let us trust Him. He who watcheth the sparrow’s. 
. fall, will not be unmindful of ours. 

THE SONG OF CREATION. 

BY HENRY TRURO BRAY. 

Shining seraphim, who are watching by the tomb-imprisoned Lord, 
Waiting the prophetic moment, serving the Eternal Word ; 

Decked with majesty and power from Jehovah’s awful throne, — 

Tell me, ye celestial legates, if ye’ve rolled away the stone. 

List the glad chorus which floats on the wave : 

“ Light is now streaming through the gloom of the grave.” 

Hark ! the peals of jubilant heaven fill the universal deep, 

Rising from th’ angelic choir, surging ’neath the Eternal’s feet ; 

Breaking all the awful stillness which pervades the dark abyss, 


THANATEGUS. 


353 


Filling every heart with rapture, deluging the world in bliss. 

List the glad chorus which floats on the wave : 

“ Death is made captive in his kingdom, the grave.” 

Hark ! the tremulous, resonant harmony pulsates through creation’s space, 
Vivifying nature’s being, quickening it with streams of grace. 

Rushing on, the seraph-chanters thrill the globes with cadent tread. 

And the sympathetic atoms vibrate deep among the dead. 

List the glad chorus which floats on the wave : 

“ Life is now throbbing in the death of the grave.” 

See those flashes of lightning so vivid ! How the deafening thunders roar! 
Look ! the hosts of heaven, prostrate, vail their faces, and adore. 
Nature’s soul is all attendant, conscious of these portents dread — 

From the throne the voice proceedeth : “ Christ is risen from the dead. 

Fly ye bright choristers down from on high ; 

Jesus is risen, and man shall not die.” 

“ But, Mabel, although I think we all should meditate on 
death, that when it comes, it might not be altogether strange 
to us; yet it is undoubtedly possible to think too much about 
death, and too little about life. It seems to me this is true 
of you. I wish you would castoff your gloom. Should you 
die, my darling, I could but pray : 

‘ And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
May violets spring;’ 

and that thy glorious spirit, quitting this thy lovely and 
beautiful form, and entering into the unseen world, may rise 
forever into higher and higher heights of conscious being. 

“OMadchen, Madchen, 

Wie lieb’ ich dich. 

Wie blickt dein Auge. 

Wie liebst du mich. 

So liebt die Lerche, 

Gesang und Luft, 

Und Morgenblumen 
Den Himmelsduft. 


23 


354 


THE EVOLUTION OE A LIFE. 


Wie ich dich liebe 
Mit warmem Blut, 

Die du mir Jugend 
Und Freud’ und Muth 

In neuern Liedern 
Und Tanzen gibst. 

Sei ewig gliicklich, 

Wie du mich liebst.” 

“ These words of Goethe, my darling, but slightly express 
my love for thee, — a love which grows deeper and deeper, as 
the days pass by. Again I say, abide with me ; for without 
thee I have neither youth nor joy nor courage.” 

“ I love to hear you say you love me, Harry, for no 
mortal being ever loved another more than Mabel loves her 
Harry, but Mabel is not God ; and should she be taken from 
you, God and duty still remain. Whether I live or die, 
Harry, you must be brave, and do your duty. In the event 
of my death, still more you have need of courage : our 
children remain, whom I should leave to you without a fear; 
for I know you would do your duty.” 

Mabel’s health continued to fail. Labor as we would, we 
were unable to abate the terrible loss of weight which she 
suffered, amounting weekly to not less than two pounds. 

“ Harry,” said Mabel, “ I would like to visit my parents, 
while I am able to make the journey ; so that should I die, 
they would have seen me once more.” 

“ If you desire to visit your parents, Mabel, I will go with 
you as far as Fairtown, and see you on the train for 
Schwartzville. We can stop over a day or two at Megalo- 
polis, and consult a physician.” 

“ I must take with me one of the children, Harry ; for 
really I think it would be too hard for me to be away from 
you all. I would like to take the dear little baby — dear little 
darling ! I have not been able to do much for her — but I 


THANATEGUS. 


355 


am afraid I could not attend to her. If you are willing, I 
will take Theresa.” 

In accordance with Mabel’s wishes, we left Thanategus 
for Schwartzville, Monday, September 22nd, arriving at 
Megalopolis in the evening. The next morning we consulted 
one of the leading physicians of the city, who advised us to 
stay over another day, that Mabel might be in a better con- 
dition for a thorough examination. During the day he made 
known to me the kind of examination he thought Mabel 
should receive ; but when I made the doctor’s opinion known 
to Mabel, she refused to consent to such examination, say- 
ing, “I would rather die ?” I was very unwilling to lose any 
opportunity of knowing the nature of Mabel’s troubles, hop- 
ing that such knowledge might aid us in saving her precious 
body ; but I could not suffer the thought of forcing her to 
do anything against her wishes. After much persuasion, she 
finally consented, weeping bitterly, to submit to the examina- 
tion, with the understanding that I was not to leave her side. 
I shall never forget it : as she gave her consent, her very 
heart seemed to break ; and from that time to her death, she 
frequently spoke of the examination as something she never 
would have submitted to, had she known just what it would 
be. The doctor was a perfect gentleman, and very careful in 
his actions, every one of which he performed in my presence, 
with the greatest respect and tenderness. After quite a 
thorough examination, he spoke ominously in the hall to me. 
“ It is possible,” he said, “ your wife may recover ; but the 
probabilities are that she will die. It is a great pity that one 
so fair and young, and with a soul as amiable and lovely as 
Mrs. Bray has, should so early fall a prey to disease ; but to 
be frank with you, I have scarcely any hope of her recovery. 
I would to God I had. We may try, however; for while 
there’s life, there’s hope.” He then gave me his written 
opinion which was as follows : 


35 6 THE evolution of a life. 

“ Apex of right lung not strictly normal. 

No evidence of abscess anywhere. 

A small lump in iliac region, probably faeces. 

No cellulitis. 

Liver enlarged in length downwards about two inches. 

A case of septicaemia.” 

On October nth Mabel wrote me from Schwartzville: 

“ I feel much better, dear Harry, than last week at this 
time ; for I really thought I was dying then, and that I 
should never see you again. The thought of dying away 
from you, gave me most indescribable pain. I think the 
trouble came upon me from taking that doctor’s medicine ; 
it didn’t agree with me at all. 

“ You advise me to eat all the nourishing food I can. I 
drink about a quart of milk, and eat a pound of meat, every 
day ; and that is positively all my stomach will stand. With 
all this, I lost two pounds last week ; so I only weigh eighty 
pounds now, but I don’t see any use in fretting over the loss 
of a little flesh ; do you ? 

“ My bowels are the only thing I have ever feared. 

“ My accommodations here are very good. Dear father, 
poor old man ! does his very best for me. 

“ Of course I would rather be with you, dear love ; but if 
you think it advisable, I will remain longer where I am. 
Still, if I have to die, I want to die with you ; I feel safer 
where you are. I am now perfectly resigned. If it be God’s 
will that I should die, I am willing ; for if I die now, I shall 
not die again. We all have to die once, you know. When 
I think of my death, one thing only troubles me, that is the 
thought of leaving you alone. I have no anxiety about the 
children, dear as they are to me ; for I know you will take 
care of them. But I feel sorry for you, dear love, who, I 
know, will seek, as far as a human being can, to do my work 
as well as your own. I do grieve for you, dear Harry, when 


THANATEGUS. 


357 


I think of these things. But never mind ; if God takes 
Mabel from you, He will surely take care of you and the 
little ones. 

“ How are the dear little lambs ? How I long to see 
them! Kiss mother and the children for me. 

“ Affectionately, 

Your Mabel.” 

On Monday, October 2 oth, Mabel left Schwartzville for 
home, I meeting her in Megalopolis the next day. As I 
received her off the cars, I was struck with her pale and 
emaciated look. She appeared to have greatly failed the 
last month, and looked as deathly white as a body wrapt in 
a winding-sheet. 

Wednesday morning we went to the office of a most 
celebrated physician. He gave us some encouragement, and 
made me hope that my fragrant flower would not die away. 
“ It is possible,” he said, “that with your faith and trust, and 
peace of mind, you may recover. In most cases I should 
have no hope ; but in your case I have good reason to 
believe a change for the better may set in.” 

In the evening we left for home ; but Mabel finding her- 
self much fatigued on arriving at Lagerville, we decided to 
remain there over night, continuing our journey the next 
morning. 

As soon as possible she began taking the medicines pre- 
scribed for her, by the physician who had given her en- 
couragement ; but after a few days trial, she was obliged to 
cease taking it, having suffered great derangement in the 
bowels, and other troubles. I reported the results to the 
physician in Megalopolis, who immediately advised me by 
letter to give her no more of the medicine, at the same time 
sending me a new prescription ; but the latter, Mabel was 
unwilling to try. 

After returning from Schwartzville, Dr. Blake, at 


358 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Mabel’s request, was her attendant physician. He always 
spoke hopefully of her case, telling me over and over he 
thought she would recover. He denied it was a case of 
septicaemia, and affirmed it was a difficulty of the liver. 
But whatever the disease may have been, the beautiful 
creature faded away, as a flower bitten by the frost. It 
seemed inevitable that I was to lose her who was the very 
well-spring of my life. 

The latter part of November, she was obliged to keep 
her own room, dressing herself by day-time until the early 
part of December, after which she was unable to leave her 
bed. About this time she said : 

“ Harry, darling, I don’t want you to pray any more for 
the recovery of your Mabel. I was desirous of life, and for 
your sake prayed most earnestly to live; and I do believe 
that if it were good for Mabel, God would have heard my 
prayers. But I think it would be wicked to pray any longer 
for life. I believe I shall go home, and it can not be long 
before I make the journey. I was thinking to-day, Harry, 
how I used to be troubled at the idea of lying in the cold 
grave, and of being devoured by the worms; and I thought 
that now I have no fear about these things, for there is 
nothing left on me for worms to devour. I am really 
nothing but skin and bones. Look at Mabel’s arm, darl- 
ing ! See ! it isn’t biggerthanacandle; and you know how 
plump and round I used to be. So the worms won’t be 
able to feed on your Mabel. 

“ Harry, darling, I want to tell you that a few days ago 
I destroyed all your love-letters to me. I wasn't willing that 
any eye but mine should see the expressions of your tender 
love. You do not blame me, Harry, do you ? And, Harry, 
I want you to burn to-day all the letters you received from 
me, before my marriage. What I wrote then, I wrote for 
you. I want you to destroy them all. Won’t you, Harry ? 


THANATEGUS. 


359 


“ One thing more, darling, your Mabel has arranged 
everything in the bureau-drawers. You know they will 
want clean clothing, and such things. You can tell the 
ladies that they will find everything in those drawers.” 

“ What are you referring to, Mabel ? ” 

“Your Mabel means those things they will want, when 
they come to — to — to, — oh, you know, darling.” 

“Oh, Mabel, I wish you would not think of those 
things. I need you so much that while you breathe, I will 
hope that God will spare your life.” 

“ That’s all right, darling; but I think that Mabel is 
going home; and, you know, I want to have everything in 
readiness. Don’t grieve, Harry; it will all be well. I 
remember when you first told me of your love, and offered 
to marry me, that I said I was not capable of being your 
wife; but you answered that was your business. And as I 
look back the six years and four months, I feel now I have 
never been worthy of you, dear Harry.” 

“ My darling Mabel, I declare before you, and in the 
sight of God, that I have always regarded you as purer, 
holier, better than I am. From you I have drawn much 
of the strength I possess. You have been always worthy 
of me; but it is I who am not worthy of you. If God 
would spare your life, even though for the remainder of it 
you could only sit in your chair, I would be satisfied.” 

“ Thank you, dear Harry, but Mabel would not be will- 
ing to remain with you, like that. I have lived long 
enough, as you say you would be willing for me to live. If 
I can’t get strong, I want to go home; and I don’t think I 
shall ever leave the bed again. I feel that all is over, that 
death is drawing near, that the curtains are falling before 
me; and, thank the dear Father, I am willing.” 

It was my custom on Sunday to preach once extem- 
poraneously, and once from manuscript; I also had made it a 


3 6 ° 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


practice for years, to read my written sermon to Mabel, the 
day before delivering it. In accordance with this practice, 
on Saturday, December 27th, I came to Mabel’s room to 
read the sermon which I was to preach the following day. 
It was based on II Cor. xii, 14-15; and its subject was, 
“The Year’s Work.” In one or two places I had used 
somewhat harsh language; and as I read this, the dear love 
said, “ O darling Harry, if I were you I wouldn’t use those 
words. It will do the people no good. They won’t do any 
better for it, and you will do worse. Please, don’t use 
those words. Be kind, darling. The people may not be 
what they might, but they are kind and good; and, 
besides, I know th^y think the world of you. Use kind 
words, Harry. Kind words never die, darling. If people 
can’t be led, they can not be driven.” 

I made the changes my dear Mabel requested, and a 
few days afterwards I had every reason to know they had 
been wisely made. But this was the last time I was to be 
counselled by her, the last sermon her spirit was to conse- 
crate. Never again would that beloved being say to me, 
“ Be kind, darling. Kind words can never die.” I was to 
lose her, my wife, my life, my all, — the being whose gentle- 
ness and purity had won everybody’s admiration; and whose 
love and devotion had changed the hardest labors of my 
life into joyful recreation. Bitter was the cup I drank ! and 
bitter are its dregs ! O God ! the thought even now 
benumbs my soul, and freezes the life-giving current. 
O earth, earth, earth, what is life when the heart is dead ! 
As a tree when struck by lightning, as a dying world that 
rolls through sunless space, so is man upon whom the 
beams of love no longer fall. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 

w Das Grab ist tief und stille, 

Und schauderhaft sein Rand; 

Es deckt mit schwartzer Hulle 
Ein unbekanntes Land. 

“Das Lied der Naclitigallen 
Tont nicht in seinem Sclioos; 

Der Freundschaft Rosen fallen 
Nur auf des Hugels Moos. 

“ Yerlass’ne Braute ringen 
Umsonst die Hande wund; 

Der Waife Klagen dringen 
Nicht in der Tiefe Grund. 

“Doch, sonst an keinem Orte, 

Wohnt die ersehnte Ruh; 

Nur durch die dunkle Pforte 
Geht man der Heimath zu. 

* * Das arme Hertz hienieden 
Von manchem Sturm bewegt, 

Erlangt den wahren Frieden 
Nur, wenn es nicht mehr schlagt.” 

Tuesday, December 30th, Mabel was very low, and I 
asked her, if she would like to receive the holy eucharist. 
She replied she would. The celebration of the holy com- 
munion for my dying love, was the most solemn work of 
my life, up to that time. Two other ladies communed with 
her, my mother and Mrs. VanValkenburgh, both of whom 
were dearly beloved by Mabel. 

In the celebration of this sacred rite, I was always most 

361 


362 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


earnest and devout; for I believed it my duty and priv- 
ilege to offer myself therein a living sacrifice unto the God 
whom I adored. In this holy sacrament I felt my fellow- 
ship with Jesus was perfected. He was my guide; and he 
had said, “ Do this in remembrance of me.” So in this 
holy rite I remembered him as a preacher of righteousness, 
as a savior of men, as a friend to sinners, as a son of God, 
and, finally, as laying down his life for the sake of the truth. 
So when I figuratively drank his blood or ate his flesh, I 
tried to offer unto God a real offering — my powers, my 
life, my all. This was my aim, and such was my resolution, 
when I prepared to perform this office for my dying loved 
one. Mabel knew well my belief, and that I was trying not 
only to be calm in the presence of death, but also to drink 
the bitter cup I was offered. She, therefore, at this her 
dying celebration, was so devout as to cast an awful solem- 
nity over the whole service, death itself as it were commun- 
ing with us. As I placed in the palm of her hand the ele- 
ment denoting the body, and said, “ The body of our Lord 
Jesus Christ which was given for thee,” I knew she was 
offering herself then, that the offering had been received, 
that she was really disappearing from my view, in a few 
more days to be given over to the cold embrace of death. 
But my soul was comforted at the words, “ preserve thy 
soul and body unto everlasting life.” Death could take 
her from me, and hide her in the moldy chambers of the 
tomb; but it could not take away the hope, that in one of 
the many mansions the Father hath, he had a room for her, 
and, some day, would have one even for me, and that there 
I should see her again. Ah, it was a solemn time; but one 
in which the hope was strong, that the spirit shall not die. 

“I felt prepared before, darling,” she said; “ but now 
everything has been done that is thought proper. And 
now, Harry, you go and take care of yourself; look to your 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


363 


own health. Much will depend on you. Mabel is going 
from you. For the sake of our dear little ones, you must 
try to bear up.” 

“ Mabel, tell me,” I said, “ have you any fear of death ?” 

“ Death ! ” she answered. “ I have no fear whatever of 
death. The dear Father will take care of your Mabel. It 
would be wicked, dear Harry, for Mabel to be afraid of 
death. How could I so mistrust my God ! ” 

Wednesday, December 31st, I said: “ If you should die, 
darling, are there any hymn's which you would desire to 
have sung at your funeral ? ” 

‘Yes,” she answered. “Sing, ‘My God, my Father, 
while I stray;’ ‘Abide with me;’ and, ‘Asleep in Jesus.’ 
These have been my favorite hymns ever since I knew you. 
When I have sung them at the funeral of others, I have 
thought they were beautifully expressive of what I should 
desire sung at my funeral; but in those days I little thought 
I should fade away so soon. But God knows best.” 

Thursday, January 1st, at ten minutes past seven in the 
morning, she said: 

“ I am almost gone, Harry. Read to your Mabel the 
burial chant, and let me repeat the words after you.” 

I began the sad task, and she repeated every word, 
pausing in certain parts to make short comments. “ ‘A span 
long !’ ” she said. “ Surely my days have been but ‘ a span 
long ! ’ Harry, do you know that I have been asking myself 
to-day, if I have ever dishonored my parents, that my days 
should be but ‘ a span long;’ but I could not think that I 
have ever been undutiful to them. So it can not be for 
dishonoring my parents that my days are not ‘ long in the 
land.’” And as I read, “And now, Lord, what is my 
hope ? ” she said, “ O Lord, thou dost know my hope is 
truly in Thee.” And as I read, “In the morning it is 
green, and groweth up; but in the evening it is cut down, 


3^4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


dried up, and withered,” she said, “ ‘Cut down, dried up, 
and withered ! * Am I not cut down, am I not dried up, 
and withered ! ” And as I read, “ As a tale that is told,” 
she said, “ O Lord, how short is the tale that I have told ! 
how short my life. has been ! how few have been my days ! 
Yet, dear Harry, had your Mabel lived threescore years, I 
might have seen but labor and sorrow. Dear Father, I 
thank Thee for thy great love. Thou wilt not forsake me; 
Thou wilt guide me to the end; Thou wilt give me rest.” 

In the afternoon she said: 

“ Harry, have you been to the post-office to-day ? ” 

‘ No,” I answered. “ There is no need of my going to- 
day, darling. I prefer to remain with you; besides, I am 
not expecting any important mail.” 

“ But, Harry, Mabel is going away, going home. Al- 
ready it seems to be growing darker. My dear sister died 
on New-Year’s Day, and I think I shall die to-night. But 
I would like once more, before I die, to hear from those I've 
loved so much and long. Won’t you please go for your 
Mabel?” 

I went, and was surprised to receive a letter from the 
post-master, which he had had in his own possession. It had 
been sent in a letter to him, with the request that 'the post- 
master would please deliver the inclosed letter to none but 
Mr. Bray. On opening it, I was shocked to know that Mrs. 
Summy, Mabel’s mother, had died from a stroke of paraly- 
sis, on December 26th. I was undecided at first whether it 
would be wise or unwise to break the sad news to Mabel; but 
after some reflection, and against the advice of many dear 
friends, I resolved that my loving wife should not die in ig- 
norance of the truth about her mother. I was some min- 
utes determining the best method of breaking the .sad news. 
As I entered the room she said, “ Have you any news, 
darling?” 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


365 


“Not much,” I answered, — “at least not much of any 
consequence. The little I have, is good news about your 
mother. I am going to let you guess what it is.” 

“ My dear mother is dead,” she replied. 

“ No, my darling,” I answered, “not dead, but living, 
living in a better world. And, just think of it! if you 
should leave us now, you will find your dear mother there 
waiting for you. She is forever free from pain and care. 
Neither winter’s cold nor summer’s heat will ever again af- 
fect her. She is at rest; and should you die, you would not 
leave her behind to grieve in this vale of tears.” 

Folding her arms across her breast, she said: 

“I thank you, dear Harry, for telling your Mabel. How 
thoughtful in you it was, how wise ! How unwise it would 
have been, to let me die thinking my dear mother would be 
left behind to grieve for her daughter ! Don’t be alarmed, 
my husband, you have not disturbed me in the least. Mabel 
is perfectly at rest; nothing affects me now. I thank Thee, 
blessed Father, that my mothei is at home, and that I shall 
soon be with her.” 

At about half-past six o’clock in the evening, she said : 

“ Harry, darling, this is New-Year’s, the feast of the cir- 
cumcision. You must not put off holding services to-day. 
I thought I should have gone away before this time; but do 
not put off the services for my sake.” 

“ My darling Mabel,” I said, “ it is not necessary to hold 
services this evening. I would greatly prefer remaining at 
your side.” 

“But,” she said, “you are commanded to let the dead 
bury the dead. I shall be all right, Harry. Mother is here 
and other company; you go, and hold services. We must 
forsake father and mother, brother and sister, husband and 
wife, for the Lord’s sake. Do not fail in doing your duty 
because of my sickness, Harry. Go, and hold the services 


366 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


of the church. I will listen as you sing; let me hear you 
once more before I die. Though I lie here, my spirit shall 
be with you.” 

With a heavy heart I got ready for services. As we sang, 
she could hear us from her sick-bed, her room being only 
about twenty-five feet from the chancel of the church. My 
heart was nearly breaking as I sang. I knew she must be 
listening, and thinking how she would never again hear my 
voice leading the choir of the church. I could not but be- 
lieve that, as I sang, that dear being, passing away as a va- 
por, was straining her powers to catch the tones as they fell 
from my lips. Oh, I thought, could I but once more see her 
in the choir, as in days of old ! Could I but once more be- 
hold her pure soul streaming out, as it were, of her large 
black eyes turned upon me, as I delivered my sermon ! But 
no; it was not to be. All was over. She would never again 
behold me in the church; I should never again behold her 
in her seat. I had prayed, and prayed in vain; striven, and 
striven in vain. My prayers seemed to fall back upon my 
own head; my cry to rise to a brazen heavens, only to be 
reflected in hollow, mocking, deathlike reverberations. Still, 
I could but pray; I could but wrestle; and while she 
breathed, I could but hope that yet she might be spared. 
But how vain my hopes ! What shifting sands my house 
was built upon ! The billows of death were breaking upon 
it; and the wild waves of despair, bearing it away. Death 
had stolen into her room, and clasped her in his cold em- 
brace; and his icy touch benumbed her powers. Indeed, 
death seemed to have given her some magic power that 
made her as it were pursue, rather than flee, his unwelcome 
presence. I should have her no more by my side, be helped 
no more by her counsel, press her no more to my breast. 
Oh, my God, it was too much for me to stand ! Earth 
seemed losing her greenness, music its charms, and life its 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


367 


attractions. The services were over, the benediction had 
been pronounced, and I was once more by the side of my 
Mabel who lay, like a wounded bird, panting upon her bed 
of death. 

“ You are come, darling,” she said. “ Mabel is glad you 
held services. I heard you singing, and wished I were there; 
but I soon shall join the harmonies of heaven. All is 
well.” 

“ Are you suffering any pain, Mabel?” 

“No; no pain, Harry. I have just a little in the old 
place, in my bowels. 

“ Harry, I wish to ask you whom you will have to con- 
duct my funeral ? ” 

“ I will have whomever you wish, dear Mabel; but Harry 
still hopes to keep you with him.” 

“ Mabel will not be with you, dear love. For your sake 
only, I wish she could be; but I am fast leaving you now. I 
would like Bishop Riteman to conduct my funeral, if it were 
convenient for him to come. Do you think he would come, 
if you were to ask him ? ” 

“You can be at rest about that, Mabel; I know he will 
come. I promise that should you die, he will do as you de- 
sire; but please give me every chance to hold you with me. 
Do not disturb yourself; have no anxiety about these 
things.” 

The night had come, and it was decided, Mabel earn- 
estly wishing it, that I should leave her in the care of Mes- 
dames Rankin and Morse, and take some rest. I was very 
unwilling to do this, but finally consented. Friday morn- 
ing, as I entered, I was struck with the great change that 
had come over my darling: the vital-spark was going out. I 
also noticed that the nourishment I had left for use during 
the night, had not been given her; and I asked the ladies 
for an explanation. They replied : “ Oh, Mr. Bray, we 


3 68 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


thought it would be only punishing her, to give the nourish- 
ment. She has been dying all night.” I was greatly of- 
fended; wished I had never consented, the night before, to 
leave her presence. It seemed to me I had done a cruel 
thing In leaving her. Yet those ladies were among the very 
best in the parish, were considered good nurses, and were 
greatly beloved by Mabel. Their action may have been a 
wise one, but I thought it most cruel. 

As I bent over her once lovely face, and looked into her 
eyes ever beaming with love, she labored hard attempting to 
raise her arms, but could not. 

“ What do you wish, my darling ? ” I asked. “ Do you 
want to put your arms around my neck ? ” 

“ Yes,” she said; “ put your head here upon my breast, 
and my arms around your neck. Let Mabel feel you near.” 

I placed myself upon the bed, my head upon her breast, 
and her arms around my neck, and she said: 

“ Harry, don’t you think I’m dying? I feel so strange. 
I believe your Mabel is dying. Don’t go away, will you ? 
Stay by your Mabel’s side.” 

I lay there until the odor of her breath made it impossi- 
ble for me to do so any longer. I moved away a little, say- 
ing, “Harry will not leave you, darling.” 

“ Harry,” she said, “ tell me, don’t you think I’m dying ? 
I feel falling away; and it’s growing so dark.” 

“ Mabel, my precious love,” I replied, “ I believe you are 
leaving me. I believe you are entering the valley and 
shadow of death. Tell me, my loved one, is there any dark- 
ness there ? ” 

“ None, none,” she said. “ It is light, all light.” 

“ Mabel, would you like to see the little ones ? ” 

“My children! Yes; bring them. Let me kiss them 
ere I go; kiss them good-by.” 

Soon the little darlings stood around their dying mother’s 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


3^9 


bed, the baby being held in my mother’s arms. One by one 
their little cheeks were pressed against their mother’s lips, 
to receive her parting kiss; and as they moved back, and 
stood around the bed, she said: 

“ God bless my dear husband, God bless my dear chil- 
dren, God bless dear mother, God bless dear Lila.” 

As these words were uttered, little Mary Lavinia became 
frightened at her mother’s looks, and burst into a loud 
scream, crying aloud, and running down stairs. My mother 
said, “ My son, dear Mabel is' dying. I will take the chil- 
dren away.” 

“ Harry,” said Mabel, “ come nearer to me. I can hardly 
see you; I am passing away; come nearer, nearer.” 

I knelt by the bed-side, and said: 

“ Mabel, my darling love, you have always been my mis- 
sionary. Give me one more word of comfort before you 
leave me for that better land. Tell me, darling, tell me 
truly, is there any darkness where you are ? ” 

“ Darkness ! There is no darkness, Harry, where the 
Father is. God will show me his light.” 

“ Oh, Mabel, my darling, how great should be thy joy! 
Thou art going to see what the glorious future is. Oft hast 
thou heard me say how sweet such death must be ! how 
sweet to know what heaven hath in store for us ! and to join 
the company of the holy and the blessed ! Oh, Mabel, my 
darling, do not forget me when thou art passed from scenes 
of pain. I shall be weary, fainting, broken-hearted, sighing 
for heaven and thee. Do not forget me, Mabel. I shall al- 
ways pray for thee, and teach our little ones to do so. Help 
me, Mabel, from that better world, to live a pure and holy 
life, and to be strong for thine and mine. And, Mabel, my 
darling, should you see my father there, tell him that his 
nightingale is coming; how I never have forgotten him, and 
that I long to see him.” 

24 


370 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ Mabel’s privileges are great, darling, I know; but be 
strong, and your reward will come in God’s good time.” 

“ Oh, Mabel, I have been a tree rooted deeply in thee ; 
and as thou movest from me, I feel my limbs are breaking, 
my foliage falling, and that I shall bear no more green 
leaves.” 

“ Harry, my love, come nearer ; I want to tell you some- 
thing. I want to say that your Mabel would rejoice if after 
she is gone away, you would marry again. I have thought 
of Mrs. C. If you would like to marry her, I should be very 
much pleased. She is a nice woman, and would be good to 
the children, and would be a help to you.” 

“ Mabel,” I said, “ my darling wife, say no more about 
such matters, let me beg you. You know that come what 
will, I will take care of the children. While I live I will 
provide for those you have borne me. But do not, my pre- 
cious love, trouble yourself about them or me. If I were 
to die, and leave you behind, it would rejoice me in the other 
world to know that you had married a pure-hearted gentle- 
man. I am sure you agree with me in such matters ; for 
you have told me so, when in health. Preserve all your 
strength, my darling ; for while there is life, there is hope.” 

“ Harry,” she said, “give me a cracker.” 

Her request was enough to break the heart of a stone. 
For weeks she had tried, and tried in vain, to eat some solid 
food ; but now, as her vital powers were sinking, forgetful 
of her inability, she asked for a cracker. I gave it to her ; 
and holding it in her hand, timid as it were lest it might be 
taken from her, she nibbled at it, and said, “ You don’t think 
it will hurt me, Harry !” 

“ No,” I said, “my darling, it will not hurt you. Eat all 
you can.” 

But even the particle she nibbled off, nearly choked her ; 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


3 7i 


for she could not swallow. We poured a drop of wine, 
mixed with water, into her mouth, and she said : 

“ It burns, it burns. See, Mabel’s mouth is unskinned — 
unskinned —sore — sore.” 

The epithelium was off her tongue and mouth, and, in 
all probability, from the whole digestive tract. It was a 
lamentable sight to see the darling as she lay there exposed 
to the ravages of death. Yet she seemed to suffer little, and 
she made no complaint. She appeared like an inoffensive 
bird, bound with cords and pinioned to the stake, the sport 
of cruel marksmen. I saw that she was dying. 

“ Turn me on my side, Harry,” she said. 

I turned her on her side, and knelt down again by her 
bed. I then began to repeat the beautiful words: Though 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear 
no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they 
comfort me. “ Have no fear, darling,” I said ; “ God will 
provide.” 

“No fear,” she said; “no fear. Though — I — walk — 
through — the — valley — of — the — shadow — I — will — fear — 
no — evil — thy — rod — staff — comfort. ” 

“ Yes, dear love,” I said. “ God shall comfort thee, and 
wipe away all thy tears. Sorrow and sighing shall flee away, 
and joy everlasting shall be thine. The grave can not hold 
thee, my darling. The death of God’s saints is precious in 
his sight.” 

“ Blessed, blessed Jesus !” she said, gasping for breath. 
It was the last time the lovely Mabel ever spoke on earth ; 
and these were her last words. It was then fifteen minutes 
past three. Falling at that time into a comatose state, she 
lay, without moving a muscle, slowly breathing her life away, 
like a dying bird, until half-past six o’clock in the evening, 
when Mabel was no more. Her heart had ceased to beat, and 
her breast to heave. Without a sigh or murmur, she 


372 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


passed from us into the unseen world, Friday evening, 
January 2nd, 1885, having been my wife six years, four 
months, and six days. At the time of her death, Mesdames 
Truman and Morse were with me in the room, and exclaimed: 

“ My God, if that be death, may such a death be ours ! She 
really did not die; she only fell asleep.” 

“ Such a death,” I said, “ will be to those who live as 
Mabel lived. Let us be careful what we sow, as that dear 
being was ; and death will come to us as it came to her, not 
to frighten, but to soothe to sleep.” 

The body of my darling was dressed for the grave by 
loving hearts, and tender hands ; and the next morning it 
was placed in the coffin which was covered with black broad- 
cloth, and which had on its top a plate, in the form of a 
cross, on which had been engraved, 

“ Mabel Elizabeth Bray.” 

The sleeping dead, confined within the coffin’s narrow 
walls, lay in the front- room ; but only once or twice could I 
bring myself to gaze on the face of her that slept : so fearful 
was the change that death had wrought. The full and love- 
lit eyes were now so deeply sunken, and the ruby lips so 
marred with the blackest stain of death, that it looked more 
like a mummy than the body of my Mabel. The house 
where her lovely soul had dwelt, had been utterly demolished. 
While she breathed, the exterior of her house preserved its 
well known marks, and passers-by exclaimed, “ Behold the 
house of beauty! ” but now I gazed upon a hovel, and could 
but say within myself, “ Behold the house of squalor! ” 

Saturday afternoon, at ten minutes to three o’clock, the 
bishop arrived to bury the remains of my departed loved 
one. On Sunday, after morning prayers had been conducted 
by the bishop, we proceeded to the church with Mabel’s 
remains, which were placed at the end of the aisle, immedi- 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


373 

ately in front of, and not far from, the chancel. The burial 
chant was then sung : 

“ Lord, let me know my end, and the number of my days; 
that I may be certified how long I have to live. Behold, 
thou hast made my days as it were a span long, and mine 
age is even as nothing in respect of thee ; and verily every 
man living is altogether vanity. For man walketh in a vain 
shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain; he heapeth up 
riches, and can not tell who shall gather them. And now, 
Lord, what is my hope ? Truly my hope is even in thee. 
Deliver me from all mine offences ; and make me not a 
rebuke unto the foolish. When thou with rebukes dost 
chasten man for sin, thou makest his beauty to consume 
away, like as it were a moth fretting a garment : every man 
is therefore but vanity. Hear my prayer, O Lord, and with 
thine ears consider my calling ; hold not thy peace at my 
tears: for I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all 
my fathers were. O spare me a little, that I may recover my 
strength, before I go hence, and be no more seen. Lord, 
thou hast been our refuge, from one generation to another. 
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth 
and the world were made, thou art God from everlasting and 
world without end. Thou turnest man to destruction ; again 
thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men. For a thousand 
years in thy sight are but as yesterday ; seeing that is passed 
as a watch in the night. As soon as thou scatterest them, 
they are even as a sleep ; and fade away suddenly like the 
grass In the morning it is green, and groweth up ; but in 
the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered. For we 
consume away in thy displeasure ; and are afraid at thy 
wrathful indignation. Thou hast set our misdeeds before 
thee ; and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. 
For when thou art angry, all our days are gone : we bring 
our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told. The days 


374 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


of our years are threescore years and ten ; and though men 
be so strong that they come to fourscore years, yet is their 
strength then but labor and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, 
and we are gone. So teach us to number our days, that we 
may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” 

Then was read the epistle by the bishop; after which 
was sung : 

“ My God, my Father, while I stray 
Far from my home, on life’s rough way, 

0 teach me from my heart to say 
Thy will be done. 

“ Though dark my path, and sad my lot, 

Let me be still and murmur not, 

And breathe the prayer divinely taught, 

Thy will be done. 

“ What though in lonely grief I sigh 
For friends beloved no longer nigh, 

Submissive still would I reply, 

Thy will be done. 

“ If thou shouldst call me to resign 
What most I love, it ne’er was mine; 

1 only yield thee what is thine — 

Thy will be done. 

“ Renew my will from day to day. 

Blend it with thine, and take away 
All that now makes it hard to say, 

Thy will be done. 

“Let but my fainting heart be blest 
With thy sweet Spirit for its guest, 

My God, to thee I leave the rest; 

Thy will be done.” 

As the coffin lay covered with flowers, the bishop, con- 
trary to his usual custom, preached a sermon. It was not 
my desire, nor the desire of the departed; but the bishop 
asked permission to speak of her that slept. He spoke of 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


375 


her graciousness, her goodness; her holiness in life, her 
triumph in death. Many eyes were full of tears, for Mabel 
had been greatly beloved; and my lone heart did bleed, 
although my eyes were dry. Among the mourners were my 
dear mother, my little children, and my niece Lila. After 
the sermon, the choir sang : 

“Asleep in Jesus ! blessed sleep ! 

From which none ever wakes to weep; 

A calm and undisturbed repose, 

Unbroken by the last of foes. 

* Asleep in Jesus ! peaceful rest ! 

Whose waking is supremely blest; 

No fear, no woe shall dim that hour 
That manifests the Savior’s power. 

“ Asleep in Jesus ! O for me 
May such a blissful refuge be. 

Securely shall my ashes lie, 

Waiting the summons from on high. 

“Asleep in Jesus ! far from thee 
Thy kindred and their graves may be; 

But there is still a blessed sleep, 

From which none ever wakes to weep.” 

The bishop then proceeded to celebrate the holy com- 
munion. At the end of the prayer of consecration, was 
sung the beautiful hymn: 

“ Abide with me: fast falls the eventide; 

The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide; 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 

Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 

“ Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day, 

Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away; 

Change and decay in all around I see ; 

O Thou, who changest not, abide with me. 


376 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ I need thy presence every passing hour; 

What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power ? 

Who like thyself my guide and stay can be ? 

Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me. 

“ I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless : 

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness, 

Where is death’s sting ? where grave thy victory ? 

I triumph still, if thou abide with me. 

‘ Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; 

Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies; 

Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee; 

In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.” 

The holy communion was celebrated at my request; for 
I felt it proper once more, in the presence of the living and, 
perhaps, the dead, to seek that near relation between the 
human soul and its God, expressed so beautifully in the 
service of the holy communion — the sacrifice of self. 
Was help divine within the reach of mortals? If so I 
wanted it. Was there balm in Gilead to heal the broken in 
heart ? If so, then I should seek it. Was it right to feel, 
as well as say, “ thy will be done ” ? Then I should seek for 
strength to say it. Was it wise to be resigned to that 
which was inevitable ? Then I should seek such resigna- 
tion, and desire to express it. This was the object of my 
having celebrated the holy communion. I had no wish 
to show that I believed in the vicarious offering of Christ, 
or that I assented to the generally received teachings of the 
church concerning this holy sacrament; but bitter as was 
the cup I drank, and thorny as was my path, I desired to 
offer myself a living sacrifice unto Him who had created me. 

The services being over, we left the -church at two 
o’clock, in long procession, for the cemetery. Many a 
mourning heart was there in addition to my own; but as 
the body of my loved one was borne along in front of me, 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


377 


over the road which we had so often, arm in arm, trodden 
in love together, my soul was heavy, and my spirit sank 
within me; for every step was full of memories of the dead. 
There is the house we lived in, when first she came to 
Thanategus. There is the beautiful evergreen whose 
shade she had so often sought. There is the walk which 
she so often travelled, making music in my ears, as her feet 
moved over its surface. There is the gate her blessed hand 
so often opened, sanctifying the catch she touched. There 
is the beautiful grove still singing its wierd music; there 
the short walk through its pines and evergreens, which she 
so oft had taken. Here is the gate that opened at her 
approach, when visiting the sick with cancer, and the last 
through which her beloved body shall ever pass; for it 
leads to the chambers of the dead, where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Here are the 
graves among which she moved, and the epitaphs she 
read; and there a new-made grave beside the carriage-way. 
The hearse stands still: this grave is for the body of my 
loved one; and here they laid her, in Lot i, Block io, 
Division H of Evergreen Cemetery, the land I had pur- 
chased as a home for my dead. 

The service was continued: the coffin lowered; the 
body given to the forces of destruction; the grave made 
redolent with flowers; the Gloria in Excelsis sung. They 
hid the coffin from my gaze, deeply covering it with new- 
born earth. Mabel slept alone; and from that day, her 
sleep hath been unbroken; and never again, though the 
earth stand green forever, and the heavens pass not away, 
shall the lovely form of Mabel be seen among the living. 

Wave your branches, ye lofty pines, and chant your 
dolorous music. Ye feathered songsters that warble over 
her resting-place, sing me now a funeral dirge accordant 
with my soul. Thou glorious sun, vail thy proud face at 


378 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


the sorrow of humanity; and thou, pale moon, pour down 
thy lambent beams on this our weeping earth. Ye stars 
that gaze out of the illimitable depths of time and space, 
give but a flickering light; boast not your power, your 
splendor, your magnitude, your eternity, in the presence of 
a broken heart. Ye weeping-willows, bend low your 
branches, bathe the earth in tears, and let the mournful 
vapor rise to heaven, wrapping the globes in mourning- 
weeds. Ye sweet forget-me-nots, cease not to bloom on 
the grave of her who sleeps, nor to remind the living of the 
lovely dead. O Mabel ! the rivers may run no more to the 
sea, the sea itself become an arid waste; the earth may 
sicken, and reel as drunken men; the sun no more may 
give its light; the stars may leave their orbits; the globes 
may clash in wild confusion; and the cosmos be no more, — 
yet, while this soul of mine shall think a thought, or hope a 
a hope, will I not forget thee. 

I returned to the parsonage: it seemed an empty nest. 
The air seemed chilly; the rooms seemed vacant; the 
house appeared strange, — love had flown. The chamber 
she had occupied, was full of mournful memories; and the 
bed upon which she lay, and where she breathed her youth- 
ful life away, became to me a thing of pain, and not the 
place of rest. The sound of every foot-fall created expec- 
tations, but to blast them as they rose. Oft I called to 
Mabel, but she answered not; oft I sought her presence, 
but failed to see her form. Oft I turned to speak with her, 
to be mocked by empty space. The light of the house no 
more did shine; the warmth of the hearthstone no more 
was felt; no more was I influenced by the attractions of 
life. The house was not home; for home itself was dead. 

Soon I visited the grave with my mother, my little ones, 
and Lila my niece. Nothing had disturbed her resting- 
place: she still slept; and the odor of fresh flowers per- 


MABEL FALLS ASLEEP. 


379 


fumed the grave. The beautiful lily, though, had drooped 
its head, and died, as if of grief for her that slept. In love 
and sorrow we bent our knees; and there I made for the 
children the following prayer, as well that they might be 
reminded of their mother, as because of the promise I had 
made her: 

“ O Lord God Almighty, give rest and felicity to our 
dear mamma in thy eternal kingdom; and cause the light 
of thy countenance to shine upon her, through Jesus 
Christ, our Lord.” From that time to this, in their daily 
prayers, they have never failed to use these words. Thus 
the memory of their mother lives ever green in their minds: 
and thus is made possible the realization of the hope of 
spirit- communion. 

The stranger, visiting Evergreen Cemetery, may find a 
grassy plot enclosed with modest curb-stone, in the center 
of which is seen a lonely grave marked with a small stone 
bearing the following epitaph: 



Mabel Elizabeth Summy, 
wife OF 

Rev. Henry Truro Bray, 

BORN NEAR 

Lancaster, Pa., 
April 2d, 1854 ; 
died at 

Thanategus, Franklin, 
Jan. 2d, 1885. 


“ blessed, blessed jesus ! ” 


T 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED — RESIGNATION. 

For several years I had now been privately preparing 
for the examinations in the course of studies prescribed by 
the University at Aristopolis, for the degree of LL.D.; and 
on April 24th, 1885, I left Thanategus for Aristopolis, for 
the purpose of standing such examinations. The examina- 
tions continued seven days, beginning Thursday, April 
30th, and ending Wednesday, May 6th. During this time I 
was examined in: 

Lecky’s History of European Morals; 

Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity; 

Aristotle’s Politics; 

Plato’s Republic; 

Gaius’ Commentaries on the Roman Law; 

Philimore’s International Law; 

Savigney’s Private International Law; 

Austin’s Jurisprudence; 

Annals of Tacitus. 

May 20th I received from the secretary of the univer- 
sity the following certificate: 

“This is to certify that Henry Truro Bray has satis- 
factorily passed the examinations for LL.D. in this univer- 
sity, at the regular examinations, April and May, 1885. 

“ E. J. Thomoff, secretary. 

The diocesan convention was held, this year, at Holtz- 
stadt. At the table of a hotel in that city, I met the Rev. 
Blossleib, who, like myself, was a clerical delegate to the 
convention. During our conversation at the table, he said: 

380 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


38i 


“ Whose little girl is that with you, doctor ? ” 

“ It is my own little girl, sir,” I replied. 

“ O excuse me!” he answered; “I had forgotten that 
you belonged to the married clergy. But it is as unnatural 
for me to think of a clergyman as married, as to think of an 
angel with a hod on his shoulders.” 

“ If the stories of the priests, sir,” I replied, “ for the 
last eighteen hundred years, are one-half true, it would be 
a great improvement on the work of angels, should they all 
be furnished with first-class hods; for a diligent hod-carrier 
does a worthy and noble work compared to that of the 
angel who sits for eternity playing a fiddle or a golden 
harp.” 

“Be careful, doctor,” he answered, “ I speak the mind of 
the church, when I say that no priest should have a woman 
tied to his tail. The church knows well that a woman only adds 
to his care by bringing him a brood of young children, and to 
his troubles by the use of her mischief-making tongue. I 
don’t think that any married priest should be given work in 
the church of Christ.” 

“ You are very severe, sir,” I replied. “ I can only account 
for your severity on the ground of your belonging to that 
class of eunuchs who, we are told, were so born from their 
mother’s womb, and therefore are greatly despised by woman 
in general; or to that class of eunuchs who are made so for 
the sake of the kingdom of bishops, having been cast out of 
that higher and nobler kingdom, the kingdom of women. 
But one or the other of these suppositions will give a reason- 
able explanation of your antipathy to woman.” 

“ Doctor Bray, are you a priest of the church !” 

“ First, I am a man, sir, and the son of a man ; secondly, 
I am a priest, the work of a bishop. I believe with my 
whole soul that no person, professing to be a man, should 
be given work in the church of Christ, unless he was a man. 


38 2 THE evolution of a life. 

I do not say that women should not be eligible to do priestly 
work ; but if a woman does such work, let her be a woman, 
and not a man in woman’s clothing. There is no room in 
the ministry for monstrosities.” 

“ Pardon me, doctor,” he answered; “but I thought I. 
was talking with a priest. Allow me to ask how many 
children have you.” 

“ I have three children, sir ; and they all bear my name.” 

“ Ach! I have never known a married priest who hadn’t a 
dozen young-ones.” 

“Your experience, sir,” I replied, “is most remarkable. 
Allow me to ask you, is it not better to be, as the married 
priest, the father of a dozen children, and labor for their 
sustenance and protection, than, as the celibate, to be the 
father of four dozen or more, unprovided for, and called 
after the names of their several mothers ? When I visit the 
parish of a married priest, I can call on the rector and his 
family ; but when I visit the parish of a celibate (but God 
forbid that I should), I may call on the rector; but it would 
be impossible to call on his numerous, uncertain, and scat- 
tered family ” 

“ Do you mean to insult me, Doctor Bray ?” he replied. 

“ I mean, sir, what I have said,” I answered. “ You have 
insulted my wife, who if there be a heaven, is in it ; and that 
is much more than insulting me who, after all, belong but to 
the order of priests.” 

Our conversation did not tend to aid digestion ; and we 
rose from the table with no strengthened feelings of friend- 
ship. After that time, we never spoke : there was nothing 
in common between us. 

Here was another priest as ignorant of God’s real revela- 
tion, as of history and science in general. How can a 
celibate hold up his head in the presence of a true man or 
woman acquainted with the history of the church to which 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 383 

he belongs ! The annals of every period are loaded down 
with accounts of their debaucheries and crimes. 

Ratherius, an Italian bishop of the tenth century, says, 
if he were to prohibit unchaste priests from administering 
the sacraments of the church, there would be none left in 
the church, except boys; and these, he says, would have to 
be expelled if bastards were put out. In the days of celi- 
bacy, it was common for the beastly, priestly fathers to trans- 
mit their ecclesiastical offices to their unlawful-born children; 
and for centuries princes levied a tax called “ Culagium,” as 
a licence for priests to keep concubines. The morals of the 
clerical celibates sank far below the morals of laymen. Pope 
John was condemned for adultery, and incest; the abbot- 
elect of St. Augustine at Canterbury, was found, in 1171, to 
have, in a single village, seventeen illigitimate children ; the 
abbot of St. Pelayo, in Spain, was proved, in 1130, to have 
kept no less than seventy concubines; the bishop of Liege was 
proved to have had no less than sixty-five illigitimate children. 
In the days of celibacy, nunneries were turned into places of 
prostitution and infanticide; and incest was so common that 
the most stringent laws were passed against clergymen living 
with their mothers or sisters ; and the employment of the 
confessional for the purposes of debauchery, was a frequent 
and common crime. The papal legate to England, in the 
12th century, had only just ended his fearful denunciation of 
the unchaste lives of the priests, when he himself was dis- 
covered in flagrante delictu with a courtesan ; and the 
atrocious immoralities prevailing in the monasteries, at the 
time of their suppression, are well known to all. Indeed, it 
was the custom of many laymen to insist on their priests 
taking concubines, in order to secure the safety of their 
wives and daughters. Says Stubbs, in his Constitutional 
History of England : “ The history of celibacy, in Eng- 

land as elsewhere, is indeed tender ground ; the benefits 


3 8 4 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


which it is supposed to secure, are the personal purity of the 
individual, his separation from secular ways and interests, 
and his entire devotion to the work of God and the church. 
But the results, as legal and historical records show, were 
very different. Instead of personal purity, there is a long 
story of licenced and unlicenced concubinage, and appendant 
to it, much miscellaneous profligacy, and a general low tone 
of morality in the very point that is supposed to be secured. 
The treatment of such moral evils was left to the church 
courts; the church courts became centres of corruption.” 
Says Kurtz : “ Between the fourth and ninth centuries, the 

unmarried clergy were frequently chargeable with unclean- 
ness, adultery, and unnatural vices.” The same author, 
speaking of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, says: 
“ The moral condition of the clergy was sufficiently sad. The 
bishops commonly lived in open concubinage. The lower 
clergy followed their example, and in many cases paid for 
this indulgence a yearly tax to their bishops. To this ar- 
rangement the people made no objection ; in fact, it secured 
their wives and daughters from the temptations of the con- 
fessional. Unnatural vices were also common among the 
clergy.” And says Bishop Burnet: “But Anselm carried it 
further, and simply imposed it on all the clergy; yet himself 
laments that the crime against nature was very common 
among the clergy, and even public ; which was also the 
complaint of Petrus Damiani, in Pope Gregory’s time. 
Bernard says that this sin was frequent among the bishops 
of his time.” And says Lecky: “It appears from the 
uniform testimony of the ecclesiastical writers that ecclesias- 
tical immorality in the eighth and three following centuries, 
was little if at all less outrageous than in other periods.” 

In the study of the history of the church, which I had 
done quite thoroughly, I was led to the conclusion that if 
the divine character of the Christian church were to stand 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 385 

or fall according to the purity or impurity of its ministers, 
it would fall with a more tremendous crash than that of the 
building whose pillars Samson pulled out. Nor do I be- 
lieve that to-day the percentage of ministers who are guilty 
of immoralities of different kinds, is any less than that of 
other professional men guilty of similar sins. Nor is it to 
be doubted that where the guilt of one clergyman is estab- 
lished, the crimes of six are hidden. I do not say that the 
clergyman lives a worse life than the average citizen; but I 
am confident he does not live a better one. 

The people of St. James’ parish were unusually kind to 
me after the death of Mabel. A few days after the darl- 
ing’s body had been laid to rest in the quiet grave, a lady of 
the congregation, Mrs. Vilas, came into my study-room, and 
placed upon the table a hundred dollars, saying it was a 
present from a few of my friends. They sympathized with 
me in my great loss; and showed their sympathy by many 
deeds of kindness. One very kind act performed by Mrs. 
Hall, I shall never forget. The first Thanksgiving-day 
after the death of Mabel, she asked me the favor of prepar- 
ing, and sending the dinner. Everything that stood upon 
the table, on that occasion, had been sent by her, even to the 
dishes and napkins; and no table could have been more 
sumptuously spread. 

My preaching in Thanategus was very rationalistic; and 
the counsel I gave in my visitations, was no less so. A 
good example of such counsel occurred, on one occasion, 
during my visit at the sick-bed of Mr. R. Having had 
prayer with him, I was about to leave, when he said: “ Mr. 
Bray, I want to speak to you; and you must not be offended. 
First, I like you very much; and my wife thinks the world 
of you. I like you to visit me; but I want to ask that when 
you come, you do not offer any prayer. I do not believe in 
prayer; nor do I believe that after death a man continues to 
25 


3 86 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


be. As for the divinity of Christ, and the Christian dogmas 
in general, I do not believe they are worth a consideration. ’’ 

“ Mr. R,” I said, “ you believe in God as much as I 
do, and therefore have a right to pray. God is not the 
God of the Christian only, but also of all those, like your- 
self, who look to Him for help and strength. And as a 
friend and counsellor, I have the right to pray that God, our 
common Father, may give you strength to stand the evils 
you now have to bear. The divinity of Christ is nothing to 
me. I know it is a dogma of the church, that never has 
been established. But the existence of God does not de- 
pend upon the divinity of Christ, nor any other dogma; but 
it is the acknowledgment of universal humanity. Man as 
man reaches out his hands after the hidden, yet everywhere 
present and felt, Deity. God is the object not only of the 
Christian heart, but of the heart of humanity. It is as nat- 
ural for the human soul to turn to its God, as for the flower 
to turn to the sun. You, therefore, as man, not as a Chris- 
tian, have the right to act as man, and lean on Him who 
alone can give you strength to bear your present evils; and I 
as man, not as a Christian, have the privilege to call on our 
common Father for the brother that I have upon this bed, 
in so great distress. As a believer in humanity, I pray to 
God for you, and not as a believer in the dogmas to which 
you refer. But if you do not believe in human nature, if 
you believe that its convictions are false, then, of course, it 
is useless for me to point you to it, as my warrant for 
prayer.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Bray,” he said; “I like you, like to 
hear you talk. But, still, when you come to see me, do not 
pray. I prefer that you should come as any other friend. 
A great many come to see me, and I want you to come 
among them, as they come.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. R ; but to do what you say, would be to 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


387 


disgrace my calling. It would be to acknowledge that my 
life is that of a humbug, and that I am but an impostor. 
Now, I consider myself a true man, earnestly believing what 
I preach. Therefore I could not become a party to a scheme 
which actively or passively acknowledges that I am acting 
the part of a mountebank. Unless you permit me to visit 
you, as a minister of God, I can not come to see you; for I 
could not thus deny Him who, I believe, hath sent me.” 

I went to the rectory, and wrote him a long letter in 
which I set forth more fully the reasons why I could not 
again visit him, unless he should receive me as a minister. 
This letter, I was afterwards told by his wife, was, at his 
request, frequently read to him, during the last few days of 
his painful life; and she thought it had a great influence 
over him for good; for at his death, which occurred in 
Washington, D. C., a short time after I wrote him the letter, 
he expressed some belief in the immortality of the soul, and 
the hope that he would see his family again. Mr. R was a 
good man, and greatly esteemed. 

Sunday evening after services, I was frequently visited 
by Mr. Morse who was a college graduate, and a communi- 
cant of the parish. 

“ Mr. Bray,” he said, “I have but little faith in the doc- 
trines of Christianity. I have scarcely attended services 
for years. Since you have been here, I have come pretty 
regularly; but just as soon as you are gone, I shall fall back 
again into my old place of indifference. I have had a con- 
tempt for the average minister they have sent here. It is 
shocking to hear them speak their contradictions ! insulting 
to hear them utter their maledictions against those who 
refuse to believe in their nature-subverting assertions. 
Who can believe, for instance, that a being in human shape 
is the infinite God of the universe ! I declare that it is 


3 88 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


absolutely impossible for a reasonable man to believe such 
absurdity, as the dogma about the deity of Christ.” 

“ I do not believe, myself, Mr. Morse, that Jesus Christ 
was God. There have been, and are, men who are rela- 
tively very pure. Like a mirror, they seem to reflect the 
image of what the good man might suppose God to be. 
Such were Zoroaster, Buddha, Confucius, Mencius, Mar- 
cus Aurelius, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Jesus Christ, and 
many others; and it is possible, though by no means cer- 
tain, that Jesus Christ remains the greatest of all the great. 
In this sense, and in this sense only, can I believe that Jesus 
Christ was divine. In one sense all things are divine; for 
nature in its entirety flows out from God, as light from the 
sun. Nature itself is an emanation from Deity. Reason 
can conceive a being in human shape permeated as it were 
with the Universal Spirit, as a sponge in the ocean is per- 
meated with water; but it can not conceive the ocean as 
contained in the sponge, nor a man as containing God. If 
the Universal and Infinite Spirit was not contained in the 
human body of Christ, then, as the sponge would not con- 
tain the sea, so was Christ not God. As permeated with 
God, he might have been divine; as a sponge permeated 
with water, would be watery. But as the sponge contained 
in the ocean, can not be the ocean which contains it; so the 
finite, limited, human body of Christ, contained in the uni- 
verse, could not have contained the Universal Being which 
contained him. As of others, so of Christ; divinity is pre- 
dicable, but deity is unthinkable, and absurd. It is impos- 
sible for an intelligent man to conceive of a place where 
God is not: it is impossible that God should not fill the 
whole; impossible that the whole of existence should not 
be contained in Him; impossible that He should be less 
than infinite. It is, therefore, impossible that God should 
be bounded, or outlined, or have any conceivable form; and, 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


3*9 


therefore, it is absurd to think of the unbounded, formless, 
infinite Deity as being contained in the bounded, definitely 
formed body of Christ. And if God was not contained in 
the body of Christ, then was Christ not God. It is philo- 
sophically possible that Christ was full of deity; but that 
no more makes Christ God, than the fulness of the sponge 
with water, makes the sponge the ocean. It is possible, 
therefore, that Christ was in God; but it is impossible that 
God was in Christ. Or you might say, as the sub-genus 
vertebrata is manifested in the class mammalia, so may God 
have been manifested in Christ; but as the sub-genus ver- 
tebrata is not wholly contained in the class mammalia, so was 
it not possible for God to have been contained in Christ.” 

“Although I have never attempted to give definite 
shape to my thought on the subject, Mr. Bray, I find it 
impossible to believe that Christ was the infinite God. But 
have we reason for believing that he was so full of deity as 
to be absolutely infallible ?” 

“ In answer to your question, Mr. Morse, it is certain 
that the proof of such infallibility being in Christ, may be 
looked for in only three directions, — his miraculous person, 
his miraculous works, and his superhuman teaching. If we 
-examine the evidence for the miraculous personality of 
Christ, we are unable to escape the logical conclusion, that 
even though divinity may have been claimed for him, this 
claim can prove nothing, since similar claims had, and have 
been, made for the miraculous personality and divine nature 
of many others. According to eastern theology, the High- 
est Spirit has manifested himself in human form, at various 
times; of these forms Vishnu is but one. Says the Svetas- 
vatara-Upanishad: ‘That incarnate Self, according to his 
own qualities, chooses many shapes, coarse or subtile, and 
having himself caused a union with them, he is seen as 
another and another, through the qualities of his acts, and 


39 ° 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


through the qualities of his body.’ And says Spencer: 
‘ The Dharma Raja is looked upon by the Bhotanese in the 
same light as the Grand Lama of Thibet is viewed by his 
subjects, — namely, as a perpetual incarnation of the Deity, 
or Buddha himself.’ And every one knows that the writ- 
ings of antiquity are full of theophanies. If we compare 
the accounts of the births of Aesculapius, Hercules, and 
Jesus Christ, we shall find a striking similarity: 


Hercitlks. 

* The lay records the labors 
and the praise, 

And all the Immortal acts 
of Hercules. 

First, how the mighty 
babe when swathed in 
bands. 

The serpent strangled with 
his infant hands : 

Then as in years and 
matchless force he 
grew, 

The Oechalian walls, and 
Trojan overthrew. 

Besides a thousand haz- 
ards they relate, 

Procured by Juno’s and 
Euristheus’ hate. 

Thy hands, unconquered 
hero, could subdue 

The cloud-born Centaurs 
and the monster crew ; 

Nor thy resistless arm the 
Bull withstood; 

Nor he, the roaring terror 
of the wood. 

The triple porter of the 
Stygian teat, 

With lolling tongue lay 
fawning at thy feet, 

And, seized with fear, 
forgot the mangled 
meat. 

The infernal waters trem- 
bled at thy sight; 

Thee, God, no face of dan- 
ger could affright, 

Nor huge Typheus, nor the 
unnumbered snake, 

Increased with hissing 
heads in Lerna’s lake.* 


Aesculapius. 

* Once as the sacred in- 
fant she surveyed. 

The God was kindled in 
the raving maid; 

And thus she uttered her 
prophetic tale: 

Hail, great physician of 
the world, all hail ! 
Hail, mighty infant, who 
in years to come 
Shall heal the nations, 
and defraud the tomb! 
Swift be thy growth, thy 
triumphs uncon fined ; 
Make kingdoms thicker, 
and increase mankind. 
Thy daring art shall ani- 
mate the dead, 

And draw the thunder on 
thy guilty head; 

Then shalt thou die, but 
from thy dark abode 
Shalt rise victorious, and 
be twice a God.’ 


Jesus Christ. 

Ye nymphs of Solyma be- 
gin the song ! 

O thou my voice inspire, 
that touched Isaiah’s 
hallowed lips with fire; 

Rapt Into future times, 
the bard began: 

A virgin shall conceive, a 
virgin bear a son. 

Swift fly the years, and 
rise the expected 
morn, 

O spring to light ! auspi- 
cious babe, be born. 

He from thick films shall 
purge the visual ray, 

And on the sightless eye- 
ball pour the day; 

’Tis he the obstructed 
paths of sound shall 
clear, 

And bid new music charm 
the unfolding ear. 

The dumb shall sing, the 
lame his crutch fore- 
go, 

And leap exulting like the 
bounding roe.’ 


“ Is it not strange, Mr. Bray, that the people should 
have generally believed in the divinity of such persons ? ” 

“ It is very strange, Mr. Morse, that Christians, knowing 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


39 * 


the facts as they do, could ever allege such general belief 
concerning Christ; for nothing is more evident than that 
Christ’s divinity was not generally accepted by his contempo- 
raries. Of this we need no further proof than the facts of 
his friendlessness, his trial, and his shameful crucifixion; 
but other proof may be had from the many stories which 
became current, either during the life of Christ, or shortly 
after his death. In the Gospel of Nicodemus, the whole 
multitude are represented as charging Christ with illegiti- 
macy; and Celsus introduces a Jew as accusing Christ of 
having invented the story of his birth from a virgin. Mary, 
he says, the mother of Jesus, having been convicted of the 
crime of adultery with a soldier called Pandera, was driven 
from the house of her husband, and for some time wan- 
dered heedlessly about, until she brought forth her illegiti- 
mate son who was afterwards educated in Egypt. I do not 
like to mention these stories. I believe that Jesus Christ 
was pure, holy, and noble; that he was in birth, and in life, 
in every way fitted to be what he was — a leader and 
savior of men; but I do not believe that he was God. The 
same reasons which Christians adduce to disprove the 
divine character of Aesculapius and Hercules, and of other 
so-called divinely begotten beings, may certainly be 
adduced to disprove the deity of Jesus Christ. 

“ Being compelled to believe that we have no sufficient 
evidence for belief in the reputedly miraculous personality 
of Christ, can we say we have conclusive proof of his 
reputedly miraculous works ? In considering this question, 
it will be conceded that the improbability of miracles is 
very great; and that, therefore, the evidence necessary to 
substantiate them must be correspondingly great, or most 
clear and conclusive. If a miracle is not impossible, it is 
certainly highly improbable for the following reasons: 

i: It is contrary to the ordinary operations of nature; 


39 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


2: Divine partiality and injustice appear inseparably 
connected with it; 

3: It takes a miracle to prove a miracle. 

“ Since the miracles of the New Testament are held to 
have been performed for the purpose of proving the charac- 
ter and mission of the miracle-worker, it seems impossible 
that the Divine Being could have performed such works, 
without being chargeable with injustice and partiality. 
For one person has no more right than another to have his 
doubts removed by supernatural evidence; and if one per- 
son more than another be vouchsafed such miraculous evi- 
dence, it seems that God would incur the charge of partial - 
ity and injustice. 

“ If a witness declares that he has had miraculous evi- 
dence of that which he asserts, there goes with such decla- 
ration the implied admission that he would not have believed 
what he now asserts, had he not received the miraculous 
proof. But if the declarer acknowledges that he could not 
have believed what he now asserts, had he not received mi- 
raculous proof, he is precluded from expecting a third party 
to accept what he alleges, unless supported by similar super- 
natural evidence. In other words, — it takes a miracle to 
prove a miracle. For belief in miracles, therefore, the evi- 
dence must be miraculous and immediate or direct. While 
it is possible to give a natural explanation of the occurrence 
of any phenomena, no supernatural one can be admitted or 
thought of. This is certainly a safe rule; but it is one that 
makes it impossible for a person professing to have wit- 
nessed a miracle, to prove to another party the genuineness 
of the miracle he declares. For it matters not what the 
character of the declarer may be, the fact remains — hu- 
mani est errare, it is human to err; and the possibility of 
being deceived or mistaken, remains forever greater than 
the possibility of miraculous occurrences. It is more rea- 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


393 


sonable, therefore, to believe that the declarer has been de- 
ceived or is mistaken, than that he really witnessed what he 
asserts. To substantiate a miracle the evidence must, there- 
fore, as we have said, be direct and miraculous. That God 
could give such evidence, can not be questioned; that He 
does not give such evidence, everybody knows. The fact 
that He does not, is to us conclusive proof that miracles are 
unnecessary. The testimony for miracles, given in the 
New Testament, is highly unsatisfactory, — indeed, as Mill 
says, insufficient to prove the occurrence even of an or- 
dinary fact; and absolutely worthless when adduced, as it is, 
to prove the reality of occurrences contrary to the general 
laws of nature. We do not, therefore, believe that we 
have any conclusive proof of the divine nature of Christ, 
from the reputedly miraculous works attributed to him; for 
such works have not been substantiated, and can not be. 

“ Shall we next ask if we have conclusive proof of the 
divine nature of Christ, from the character of his teachings ? 
It has been held by many that the teachings of Christ are 
superhuman. This belief is sufficiently refuted by the fact 
that his teachings are agreeable to us, and much more read- 
ily comprehended than the teachings of philosophers in 
general. And when we consider the fact that the teachings 
of Christ do not contain any essentially new ideas concern- 
ing either God or man, the absurdity of declaring Christ’s 
teachings to be superhuman, becomes sufficiently apparent. 
Whether we consider his person, his alleged works, or his 
teachings, we have no satisfactory and conclusive evidence 
that Christ was other than man, conceived and born of 
woman, and begotten of man; but we have every reason to 
believe that he came into the world, like many others, im- 
pressed with the idea that he had a work to perform; and 
we believe he did this work nobly, and that he finally gave 
his life, as Socrates gave his, for the truth he had preached. 


394 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ I do not wish, Mr. Morse, to be known as a grumbling 
child of the Infinite Father. I am satisfied with nature as I 
find it ; satisfied with the certainties of to-day, and the uncer- 
tainties of to-morrow ; satisfied not only with the knowledge 
I have of this present state, and the part I perform in it, 
but also with my uncertainties concerning a future state. 
On the other hand, I am not satisfied that God should open 
the heavens to the gaze of one, though it be Peter or Paul, 
and keep it closed to the gaze of others who strain every 
nerve to catch a glimpse of it. In other words, all I ask, in 
this battle for existence, is fair play; and that I expect God 
to give me.” 

As further showing the character of my teaching in 
Thanategus, I will here give a portion of a sermon I preached 
there, August 9th, 1885: 

“There is perhaps no exact and satisfactory definition of 
virtue. It was common among the Stoics to define it, as a 
certain quiet or rest of the perturbations and passions ; but 
Aristotle was by no means satisfied with this definition. In 
one place he says that virtue is a habit or state of mind, 
which chooses between two extremes — excess and deficiency; 
in another, that it is the finding and pursuing the middle 
course. The power of finding and pursuing the middle 
course, lies in the reason. A virtuous man might, therefore, 
be defined as a man who lives in accordance with the dic- 
tates of the reason. But just as surely as Jesus Christ spoke 
the truth, when he said that there were but few entering into 
life, so true is it that there are but few living a life in accord- 
ance with reason. The great multitude are propelled, yea, 
dragged on like a beast to the slaughter, by some insatiable, 
unbridled passion or desire. 

“From the practice of virtue, says Aristotle, a man be- 
comes virtuous ; from the practice of justice a man becomes 
just. So says St. John : He that doeth righteousness, is 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


395 


righteous. As the practice of virtue, justice, or righteous- 
ness, makes a man virtuous, just, or righteous ; so he who 
does not practice justice, virtue, or righteousness, can never 
become a good man. The knowledge of what constitutes 
these noble, moral traits, is not sufficient : right theory and 
proper practice are each alike necessary to the develop- 
ment of a good man. In this, as in other arts or sciences, 
every man is not competent to theorize for himself ; for 
virtue is as much the flower of reason, as the rose is the 
bloom of the rose-tree. Now all rose-trees are not alike : 
while some are so situated as to produce a perfect rose, 
others are not. And when we desire to know the nature of 
a rose, we never think of choosing a stunted and sickly tree; 
but we search until we find a perfect one. Thus when we 
search after the normal action, and proper uses, of the reason, 
we do not choose for examination a sickly, poorly endowed, 
badly educated mind ; but one, as far as possible, properly 
educated, and harmoniously developed. Ever and anon 
such a man appears ; and, like a star of the first magnitude, 
his path of life is a stream of light emanating from virtue. 
Such a soul is indeed a true light that lighteth every man 
that cometh into the world. In him only is seen the truly 
beautiful and good ; and he only has that reason which 
may be taken as our guide. Such a man has meat and drink 
of which the multitude know nothing ; and to him nature is 
responsive and the secret of happiness made known. To 
virtue nothing is beautiful but truth ; for virtue seeks great- 
ness of soul, and greatness of soul continually feeds on 
truth’s immortal fruit. Virtue can never be fed on silver or 
gold, or any other external adornment ; for in possession of 
all these, it would speedily sicken and die. Virtue lives and 
grows only through the right use of the reason ; and reason 
hath its perfect work, only when building up a man immortal 
and divine. When we say that reason must be our guide, we 


396 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

mean the reason of the reasonable man. Reason other than 
this, is no more to be trusted as a guide, than the stunted, 
sickly rose can be used as a type of roses. 

“ Virtue is its own reward. In speaking of one of the 
elements of virtue, Solomon says : ‘She shall give to thine 
head an ornament of peace ; a crown of glory shall she 
deliver thee.’ Kingdoms must rise and fall, nations live and 
perish ; but the head that is decked with virtue’s crown, 
remaineth king forever. How petty appear the objects of 
the vulgar man to that soul possessed of the quietude, and 
heavenward tendencies, of virtue! Every other possession 
is sought as a means ; virtue only is sought for itself. Virtue 
is true life, soul-life ; the absence of virtue is true death, 
soul-death. Soul-life is spiritual life, and spiritual life is 
divine energy, and divine energy is an emanation from the 
one Universal Spirit, God. He that dwelleth in virtue, 
therefore, dwelleth in God, and God in him. The posses- 
sion of virtue gives peace, rest, trust, hope, courage and joy; 
the total lack of virtue leaves the soul in outer darkness, and 
deplorable misery ; while the lack of it, in any degree, mars 
to that extent the sacred temple of God. From the petty 
jealousies and hatreds of neighbors to the armament of 
continents in universal strife, every thing destructive to 
human happiness, can be attributed to the lack of virtue. On 
the other hand, whatever happiness is found, blessings ex- 
perienced, or peace possessed, may certainly be said to be 
the fruit of virtue. Well may virtue be its own reward ; 
for with it, poverty is riches ; without it, the millionaire is a 
beggar. 

“ Virtue we have said is soul-life. Now, soul-life depends 
for its existence on intercourse with the Deity, the Uni- 
versal Soul. The virtuous man, therefore, is devout, and 
ever listening to the whisperings of the Infinite Spirit. 
Quiet within, he is not greatly disturbed by the distractions 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


397 


without; his peace flows like a river; his eye sparkles with ce- 
lestial light; his heart beats in unison with the heart of 
nature; and he understandeth the words: 

‘Change and decay in all around I see; 

O Thou who changest not, abide with me.’ 

“ How can such a soul, fanned by the gentle breezes of 
heaven, be content in a polluted atmosphere, or with a mere 
display of drapery ! As day by day the feathers appear, 
the little nestling tries to leave its mother’s home. Its latent 
powers are breaking into activity. It feels the stirrings of a 
new life; and longs to soar into yon azure skies. So with 
the virtuous man: he becomes conscious of latent powers; 
feels the stirrings of a higher life; longs after suitable com- 
panionship. Music from another clime breaks upon his ears; 
multitudes of the holy and the just seem exposed to his 
gaze, bathed in a flood of divine light; and he feels himself 
ascending, as he longs for their companionship. 

“ How such a soul pities the mass of mankind, as he sees, 
them consumed in the hells of their own making! There 
they lie, without a drop of water to cool their burning 
tongues. Deceived and deceiving, they taste not the water 
of life, nor eat the fruit of blissful immortality. 

“ Let us choose that part which can not be taken'from us, 
which will stand adversity and prosperity alike, which is 
hopeful in life, and confident in death; let us choose the 
part of virtue; and soon, as immortal flowers, we shall grow 
and bloom forever in the paradise of God.” 

Hoping that new associations and scenery would be ben- 
eficial to the health of myself and children, I resolved to 
resign my work in the city of Thanategus; although in doing 
so I was conscious that I was going to separate myself from 
very many dear friends, and a vestry composed of kind- 
hearted and honorable gentlemen. While with them, they 


39 8 THE evolution of a life. 

had increased my salary, and always promptly met all their 
obligations. Indeed, from first to last, they paid me 
more than I had been promised. I shall ever remember 
them with gratitude and affection. Their kindness was 
never more manifested than by their refusal to accept my 
resignation, until I had offered it the third time. After ac- 
cepting my resignation, the vestry passed, and furnished me 
with a copy of, the following resolutions: 

“At a meeting of the vestry of this parish, convened to 
consider the resignation of the rector, which he had tendered 
for the third time, and which had been twice refused, the 
following resolutions were unanimously adopted: 

“Whereas the Rev. Henry Truro Bray, LL. Director of 
St. James parish, in the city of Thanategus, in the state of 
Franklin, has tendered to the vestry of said parish his res- 
ignation to take effect June ist, and whereas it would be an 
injustice to ourselves, and the parish which we represent, as 
well as to the rector who has served us with such signal 
ability and success, to withhold some expression of our ap- 
preciation, — therefore: 

“ Resolved that we recognize in the Rev. Henry Truro 
Bray, a man of eminent, scholarly attainments, and Christian 
devotion. 

“ Resolved that in repairing, renovating, and beautifying 
the church property, he has merited our approbation, and 
thanks. 

“ Resolved that we recognize, and fully appreciate, his 
successful work in the pulpit, as well as in the Sunday 
school. 

“ Resolved that these resolutions be spread upon the re- 
cords of the parish, and that a certified copy be presented to 
the rector. C. L. Shoenman, clerk. 

“Thanategus, Franklin, May 18th, 1886/* 


THANATEGUS CONTINUED. 


399 


As soon as I had acquainted the bishop with the fact of 
my resignation, he sent me the following letter: 

“Kirkton, Franklin, June 3rd, 1886. 

“ My dear bro., I have just come from a visitation, and 
find your note of the 1st inst. I inclose your letter dimis- 
sory immediately, as it is necessary to present it, and to 
have it accepted, and the canonical license issued before you 
are canonically and legally settled in a rectorship in a new 
diocese. 

“ I do not like to part with my clergy, although I am 
glad to see them advanced, and made more comfortable. 

“ The climate of this diocese is a little rigorous, and I 
do not wonder that some persons desire a home nearer the 
sun than we are. I do hope and pray that you may be 
shielded, and prospered both spiritually and in things tem- 
poral. 

“ It is mere justice to say that I think that you have 
grown steadily in power and usefulness since you first came 
to this diocese, and I wish you the best success in your new 
work. 

“ I am really thankful to have a rectorship end so pleas- 
antly as yours has ended. 

“ I will notice your work in my council address* 

“ May God Almighty keep you steadfast in the faith, and 
crown you with eternal blessings. Faithfully yours, 

“ R. V. Riteman, bishop. 

“ The' Rev. T. H. T. Bray, LL. D.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


FLUMVILLE. 

As rector of St. James’ Church, Thanategus, Franklin, X 
preached my last sermon there, May 30th, 1886; and on 
the following Sunday, June 6th, I preached my first sermon 
in Christ Church, Flumville, Jackson, having been elected 
rector of that church a little before I left my former parish. 

When I left the city of Thanategus, I thought in my 
heart that I would do all I could to live and act in con- 
formity with accepted church teachings, by confining 
myself in my sermons more to practical teaching, and those 
principles which enter into all the different religions of the 
world. But try as I would, I could not help preaching on 
doctrinal subjects; and, besides, I was frequently asked by 
some member of my congregation to preach on the very 
subjects I desired to escape discussing. 

My preaching appeared to be very attractive; for I 
believe it was generally admitted that the church had never 
before been so well attended. The attachment between 
rector and people in less than a year, was very strong. The 
gentlemen were respectful, and prompt in discharging their 
obligations; and the ladies were most kind, and attentive 
to all the wants of both myself and my children. As I 
could not help loving such a people, so could I not help 
working hard to build them up. 

There were but few men among the members of Christ 
Church. I thought the faith I preached was both manly 
and reasonable, and determined, if possible, to bring some 
gentlemen into communion with the church. The fires of 

400 


FLUMVILLE. 


401 


hell raged not in my sermons, nor did the sulphurous vapor 
of the “ pit ” ever ascend from the platform, when I 
preached. I had great respect for all the peculiarities of 
the Episcopal Church, and endeavored to make my people 
as churchly as possible. Yet, while in form I was a strong 
churchman, in theology I could not be other than a ration- 
alist. 

My broad principles seemed attractive, especially to the 
male members of the congregation; for at the end of my 
first year, I had a class of nine men confirmed, the bishop 
remarking at the time that he had never laid his hands on 
such a class before. But although the bishop could not 
deny the grand results of my work, yet he did not like my 
theology; and it might be said that, from the first time we 
met, to the last time we saw each other, we were mutual 
enemies. There was no room in me for dogmas of blood; 
there was none in him for the deliverances of reason. 
While his cranium was of fair dimensions, his soul was nar- 
row, never having been expanded by the pressure of 
investigating thought. 

At the close of my first year’s rectorate, I thought it 
would be honorable in me to give the people of Christ 
Church an opportunity of expressing their minds concern- 
ing the doctrine I had been preaching, whether they liked 
or disliked it. If they liked my preaching, I wished to con- 
tinue with them; if they disliked it, I wished to leave them. 
I, therefore, offered my resignation. Instead of accepting 
it, the vestry largely increased my salary, and unanimously 
refused their consent to my leaving them. This to me was 
a most conclusive proof that the character of my preaching 
had been acceptable to the people of the parish. I, there- 
fore, felt I could act with more certainty and boldness than 
before, and concluded to discuss more fully than ever the 


26 


402 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


great doctrinal principles of the church to which we 
belonged. 

Some people blamed me for offering my resignation, 
saying I had no right, in that manner, to put myself into 
the power of the vestry. But I always acted on the prin- 
ciple, that it is not honorable in a minister, to stay where 
he is not wanted; and not agreeable to a people, to be 
forced to listen to a man whom they do not like, and on 
whose judgment they feel they can not rely. If I knew a 
people wanted and liked me, my soul would be on fire as I 
preached, and I could give my life for them; but if I 
should know they did not want me, the sparks of my man- 
hood would die out, and the thoughts of my mind would 
wither, as I rose to deliver my sermon: I should be a dead 
man in the pulpit. No man can preach as he might, unless 
he feels he likes the people, and believes the people like 
him. My independence is too great, to remain a moment 
where I might not be wanted. It seems base to me for a 
minister to foist himself upon a people unwilling to bear 
his presence. Yet I have known many a man who has per- 
sisted in keeping his position, though he has been disliked 
by the women, and cursed by the men. 

The coming into the town, about a year after I had been 
located, of a straggling, Irish, Roman missionary, tended not 
a little to increase the boldness of my preaching. In the 
usual manner of Roman priests, he lauded the power and 
excellency of his own communion, and scoffed at the pre- 
tensions of the ministers of all other denominations. Rome 
was the only ark of safety: she alone had the priesthood 
and the sacraments; she alone was the church of Christ. 
The children of Rome could rely on the protection of the 
holy Mother of God, while the children of all other denom- 
inations were forsaken by her, and exposed to the wrath of 
heaven. The Episcopal Church could only mimic the 


FLUMVILLE. 


403 


forms and ceremonies of the Holy Roman Church, as its 
ministers possessed no priestly power or authority from 
Christ. It was made by the profligate Henry VIII, and, 
like him, was guilty of heinous schism and heresy. The 
Episcopal ministers were “ hireling gospelers,” and the 
Episcopal Church “ an apostatized sect.” Its orders could 
be traced to the farce of the “ Nags-Head tavern,” and her 
apostolic succession to the “ female pontiff, Queen Bess.” 
“ Poor man,” said he, referring to me, “ in a few days the 
grave-worms shall house in his addled brain. What then 
will be left of Dr. Bray, with his six degrees from the uni- 
versities ? ” Thus he raved in personal abuse, and tirades 
against the different Christian denominations of the land. 

How should I answer this vapory priest ? Should it be 
after my own heart ? or after the manner of the Episcopal 
Church ? If after the manner of the Episcopal Church, I 
could only do as others had done, for the last three hundred 
years, and the bone of contention would still remain ; if after 
the manner of my own heart, I should attack his premises, 
and thus expose myself to the ire of my own bishop. I had 
no doubt whatever that to be in full agreement with the his- 
torical Christian church, a priest should be able to trace his 
orders to a source recognized by that church, as qualified 
and competent to confer such orders ; but, at the same 
time, I was satisfied that the claims of the historical church 
were utterly unwarranted, unreasonable, and based upon 
superstition ; in other words, that it spoke great things of 
which it had proved, and could prove, nothing. Knowing 
these things I determined to be true to myself, to answer 
the Roman missioner out of my own heart, and show the 
good-for-nothing character of what he labored so hard to 
determine. If he had not proved his assertions to the satis- 
faction of the people, he had failed in his endeavor ; if he 
had proved his assertions, he would only have succeeded in 


404 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

showing that he was in possession of that which an honor- 
able man would hasten to get rid of. 

His insulting assertions appeared May 27th, and by the 
evening of the next day, I had written my answer, had it 
printed in a large four-paged circular, and put into nearly 
every house in Flumville. 

“ The vulgar,” I said, “ always rail at knowledge. The 
undeveloped intellect manifests the mind of a child, but the 
passions of a brute. The Roman priest has given sufficient 
proof that he is one of those who deal in magic and sorcery. 
No greater aid can infidelity have than that which is given it, 
when a man passing as an ordained priest, shows himself to 
be an ordained blackguard. The Roman missioner says he 
is a ‘ religiosus I have heard of them before. At the 
Council of Constance there were no less than eighteen 
thousand such; and in their train there were more than seven 
hundred prostitutes. Pope Alexander was another ‘relig- 
iosus.’ In early life he became a cardinal; he was publicly 
censured for his gross debauchery ; he had five acknow- 
ledged children by the Roman matron Vanozia; he succeeded 
to the papacy through the grossest bribery, buying the votes 
of twenty out of the twenty-five cardinals ; he plunged with- 
out scruple or remorse into the practice of every vice, and 
the perpetration of every crime; the papal palace was a scene 
of Bacchanalian orgies ; licentious songs, swelled by a chorus 
of revellers, echoed through its banqueting halls ; indecent 
plays were acted in the presence of the pontiff ; he indulged 
in licentiousness of the grossest description ; he was accused 
of incest with his own daughter Lucretia ; in the end he was 
poisoned by his own son Caesar. ‘The crimes of this pope/ 
says Guicciardini, 1 placed him on a level with the beasts that 
perish/ 

“ The Roman missioner seems greatly concerned about 
England, and the vicar of a church there. The former, 


FLUMVILLE. 


405 


sometime or other, has undoubtedly excreted him ; and the 
rector to whom he refers, was never guilty of blasphemy, at 
least against the laws of nature. The accusation he brings 
against this vicar, is proof, at least, of the cerebral activity 
of the latter. Not so is it with the Roman missioner : he is 
not troubled with such molecular motion. Being a primitive 
man, his intellectual activity is chiefly confined to imitation. 
In the words of Spencer : ‘ To such minds this kind of in- 

tellectual provender is alone available ; and to feed them on 
higher kind, would be as impracticable as to feed a cow on 
meat.’ Like the Houssa negro who changes not, so the 
Roman missioner can say : ‘ Because same ting do for my 

father, same ting do for me.’ The father died adoring a 
goddess, and the son still lives, with the Pope’s big-toe in 
his mouth. 

“ He says he is a citizen of the United States. I think 
he must be mistaken. A citizen of the United States is one 
who swears allegiance to the laws and government of the 
same. This is impossible for the Roman missioner to do, 
because in his Trentine creed he swears allegiance to the 
Bishop of Rome, and because this execrable bishop claims 
the power to absolve from the obligations of an oath. So if 
the Roman missioner has sworn allegiance to the United 
States, he has deceived nobody : the United States know 
what such allegiance is worth. 

“ He asks what will become of my scholarship after the 
grave-worms enter into my brain. First, I shall have enough 
left for the worms, after I have done with him ; secondly, I 
do not trouble myself in the least about grave-worms, — they 
are meet food for the cadaverous soul of a Roman mis- 
sioner. So I, too, say, let the dead bury the dead. I would 
say, however, that I have no need of apprehension, if 
Romanism be true. For should a man find himself in hell, 
he will by Dante’s account, be in good company, since the 


406 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

popes of Rome are there. They will certainly use their 
magic, and quiet the lurid flames. Or, it may be, since they 
are fit fire-eaters, they will kindly devour it all. On the 
other hand, should some poor, straggling wretch find him- 
self in a second-class room in heaven, occupying the same 
quarters with a Roman missioner, there continuing his incan- 
tation and magic, I doubt not that he might seek to change 
his abode, for a first-class room in hell ; for where, in what 
Tartarean caverns shall man find a deeper hell than in the 
darkness and superstition of Roman priestcraft ? In the 
words of Buckle, ‘The power of the Roman church has 
always been the crying evil of every country.’ 

“ It is well known to-day that nearly all the advance- 
ment made in science of every kind, and nearly all the im- 
provement in constitutional liberty, and in the general wel- 
fare of the poor, are found among those people who laugh 
at the papacy and at all its pretensions. 

“ The air of the United States is poisonous to Roman- 
ism. Before the religiosi cry for water to cool their burn- 
ing tongues, and there be found none, I would advise them 
to prepare for the day of judgment that is fast coming upon 
the Roman hierarchy. 

“ The Roman missioner says I show but little care for my 
priesthood. I can assure him that it is more than five years 
since I have troubled myself about such matters as that. 
To-day I delight in being a man, honest, sincere, truthful, 
— a believer in science, and in God as the common pos- 
session of the laity, if not of the priesthood. So little do I 
think of the blasting papacy, and its blasphemous preten- 
sions, — so little do I think of hierarchical pretensions in 
general, that had I the free choice, I would open my pulpit 
to any sincere lover of truth, even though a Zoroastrian. 
If the Roman missioner asks me, where shall truth be 
found, I answer that the greatest body of truth, and that 


FLUMVILLE. 


407 


which is necessary to the correct understanding of any 
other truth, is found in the scientific world. Of this truth 
the Roman missioner evidently knows nothing; and, there- 
fore, he knows nothing of any truth. He mistakes super- 
stition for truth. 

“Man may rejoice that Romanism is passing rapidly 
away. In the words of Laing: « It has no more chance in 
the contest with science than George Stephenson’s cow 
would have, if it stood on the rail and tried to stop the 
progress of the locomotive.’ 

‘ Protestantism is a normal movement, a natural protest 
against the cunning, the lying, the venality, the debauchery 
of the Roman priesthood. In the words of Spencer: 
4 Those pious knaves never rob save in the name of Allah.’ 
Priestly influence serves to degrade rather than elevate. 
The church which in 1609, could advise the cutting of the 
throats of a hundred and forty thousand Moriscoes, and 
whose agents could butcher the helpless refugees, ravish 
the women, and throw their helpless babes into the sea, as 
Buckle tells us the church of the Roman missioner did, will 
never make much inroads upon the American people. In 
speaking against the Anglican communion, the missioner 
strains at a gnat; while in accepting the creeds of Pius IV 
and Pius IX, he swallows a camel. But how can a person 
reason with a man who gives no evidence of power to judge 
between superstition and truth ! He belongs to that great 
army of priests and medicine-men of whom it may be truly 
said, in the words of Spencer: ‘ Their extreme credulity, 
like that of the savage, shows us the result of undeveloped 
ideas of causation and law. Any story, however monstrous, 
is believed; and any explanation, however absurd, is 
accepted.’ But I presume that the Roman missioner cares 
little for science or philosophy, as he is sure of a good liv- 
ing by offering masses for souls in purgatory, — a place 


408 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


which the skill of his brethren has invented for the 
occasion. 

“ In conclusion, the best wish I can make for the Roman 
missioner, is that he may cast aside his priestly garments, 
enter some real school of learning, and hear the voice of 
God, as He reveals himself in the harmonious operations of 
the universal whole. Then will he become a preacher of 
righteousness, and be no longer a priest of superstition.” 

In four months this circular was followed by the publi- 
cation of my “ Essay on Theism, or on the Knowability of 
God.” This work attracted wide notice. The priests of 
the diocese became alarmed: their craft was in danger. 
They therefore pressed on the bishop the duty of calling 
me to account for the utterances I had made; and the 
bishop, fearing lest the book might lead some minds to 
regard the worth of his episcopal paraphernalia, as consist- 
ing merely in the value of the goods of which they were 
made, hastened to comply with the wishes of the good 
brethren. But in order to hide as much as possible the 
inquisitorial nature of his visit to me, he pretended that he 
was compelled to choose that time for his regular visitation, 
since, he said, he could not come the following Lent. 

At his visit he preached on the Inspiration of the Holy 
Scriptures, and pressed on the people the necessity of 
•accepting the Holy Scriptures, as the very word of God, in 
each and every part. If any part, he said, appeared other 
than the very word of God, it was owing to the darkness of 
our minds, or our inability to understand it. Our duty, 
however, was to regard the Holy Scriptures as severally 
and wholly divine, in every part thereof. “I’ll grant,” he 
said, “that there are many things hard to understand, 
seemingly unreasonable, and, perhaps, contradictory; but 
for myself, I am willing to let those parts alone, until it 
shall please God to explain them. The Bible is the word 


FLUMVILLE. 


409 


of God, we must remember; and it is altogether improbable 
that man could fully understand what God reveals. We all 
can know enough for our salvation, and that is all the Mas- 
ter has promised.” 

It was pain for me to hear this bishop rave, knowing, as I 
did, the fallaciousness of his argument founded, as it was, 
upon premises all begged for the occasion, and then worked 
up to suit the needs of his peculiar office. “Oh,” I said, in 
my heart, “foolish generatipn, who hath bewitched you 
that you can sit still in your seat, without a protest ! ” Yes, 
it was pain to me, to hear this superstitious bishop denying 
the God of nature a place in the temple of superstition. I 
thought if Truth or Virtue could speak, I should hear the 
cry, “ impostor ! ” ringing through the heavens, and see the 
face of the bishop blanch, thus called to account by the 
God of the universe. 

After the evening service, the bishop said : 

“ Doctor, I should like to see you in the vestry to-mor- 
row morning a few minutes, if you could make it conven- 
ient. Could you manage to be there about ten o’clock, and 
bring the senior warden with you ? ” 

I answered that I could, and that I should be pleased to 
see him there. 

When the morning had come, the senior warden and my- 
self were in the vestry at the appointed hour; but Bishop 
Dummkopf was about thirty minutes late in coming. After 
some hesitation, the bishop began : 

“ Doctor Bray, I may as well state the object of this 
meeting. It is rumored abroad that your teachings are not 
consistent with the principles of the church, indeed, that you 
teach out-and-out heresy. It has been brought to my atten- 
tion, and many have asked me to inquire into the matter. I, 
therefore, feel it my duty, as your bishop, to ask you certain 
questions which I expect you to answer.” 


4 io 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


When he had addressed certain questions to me, I arose 
and said: 

“ Bishop Dummkopf, I passed my examinations for the 
priesthood, in the year 1877. When you tell me by what 
authority you ask me these questions, I will answer you, and 
not before.” 

“ Be seated, sir,” he replied, “ will you ? ” 

“ I will be seated sir, when I feel inclined to seat myself, 
but certainly not at your order. As my bishop, you have 
no authority to ask me these questions, and I refuse to an- 
swer them. I am not on trial. 

“Well,” he replied, “I ask you these questions as one 
man would ask another. If you please to answer them, 
well and good, if you refuse, I have still done my duty.” 

“ If you put the matter in that light, sir,” I answered, “ I 
am willing to answer your questions.” 

“ Doctor Bray,” he asked, “ do you use the prayer-book, 
— just as you find it, in your services?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Do you use the creed ? ” 

“Yes, sir; but from my first coming into this parish, I 
have given the creed an openly rational interpretation.” 

“Do you administer the sacraments of the church?” 

“ None but a wicked priest, sir, could have told you 
I did not. I always administer the holy eucharist every 
month, and frequently on holy days. I think too much of 
that means of grace, to pass it over.” 

“ You have published a book on the ‘ Knowability of 
God.’ I understand it has had quite an extensive sale, es- 
pecially in this town.” 

“Yes, sir,” I replied; “ it has had a very good sale; but 
I would the sale were larger, that light might shine where 
darkness now prevails.” 


FLUMVILLE. 


411 

“ What is the price of the book, doctor? Could I get 
one ? I would like to read it myself.” 

“ I will with much pleasure present you one, bishop. I 
am sure it will do you good.” 

“ I am sorry, Doctor Bray, that, according to reports, 
you seek to go into unfrequented paths, and that you un- 
dervalue the Scriptures. I have no sympathy with such ten- 
dencies; do not think they work the church good. I would 
advise you to remain in the old paths, and to hesitate before 
you teach rationalism in the pulpit of the church of God.” 

“ My experience is different from yours, bishop,” I re- 
plied. 

“ So is mine,” said the senior warden. I am sure the 
church has never prospered, like it has since Doctor Bray 
has been with us.” 

“ That is good hearing,” said the bishop; “but I can not 
sympathize with Doctor Bray’s teaching. It is not the faith 
once given to the saints.” 

“ I see no reason, bishop,” I answered, “ for refusing to 
give the present age a correct faith, simply on the 
ground that it was not given to the saints in the past. I am 
satisfied that the church of to-day is full of unbelievers, and 
that the pulpits are full of infidels, — men who do not be- 
lieve what they teach. The faith I preach, man can accept; 
the faith you speak of, never again can be accepted by the 
reasoning mind.” 

“ That is all, doctor,” said the bishop. “ I have discharged 
my duty in the matter.” 

On the 23rd of November, the bishop wrote: 

“My dear Dr. Bray: I have read your book on the 
‘Knowability of God.’ I feel thankful to you for sending 
me to my books again, as I have been absent from them 
many years; but I wish to say: 

“ Feeling that it is the conviction of the vast majority of 


412 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


all Christian people that the Christian religion is supernatu- 
ral in origin and life, as no other religion ever was, or is to 
be, except the Patriarchal, and the Jewish, which it has suc- 
ceeded and absorbed, I am pained that you have allowed 
yourself to speak of the Christian miracles so slightingly, or 
to press so unduly the natural as against the supernatural. 
And Bibliolatry has so far forgotten the genesis and history 
of The Book that in reminding men of their forgetfulness, 
and giving corrections to their errors, you have allowed 
yourself to go to the other extreme of exaggerating the un- 
certainties connected with it. Natural science does not in- 
elude all science. Do not uphold scientists in their narrow- 
ness. For instance, Huxley and Tyndall are always narrow; 
Darwin never. 

“ You are in danger of injuring souls in your intellectual 
work — in weakening their faith (justly and reasonably 
founded as the vast majority of Church people are con- 
vinced it is) in the Divinity of the Blessed Master, and in the 
special inspiration of the Holy Scriptures. 

“ May I lovingly request you to be on your guard. In- 
tellectually restrain yourself from making statements which 
may weaken the faith of listening ears. And for the sake 
of the Blessed Master and his cause in His Church, and the 
hearts of the souls connected with your charge, give heed to 
the building them up in the faith, rather than explicitly to 
dissecting and analyzing and destroying by reason of exag- 
gerated truths. 

“ In your utterances from the pulpit, in all thanks for 
earnestness and faithfulness, I ask you to avoid those things 
that may give hurt to faithful souls of plain Church views. 

“ May God bless you in all the good you are doing, and 
overrule by His Holy Spirit’s grace what error you are 
allowing yourself to commit, is the prayer 

Of your loving bishop, 

W. V. Dummkopf.” 


FLUMVILLE. 


4 r 3 


What could I reply to a man who had acknowledged that 
he had been many years away from his books ? who could 
show his holiness and sanctity rather by the use, in his let- 
ters, of an archaic language, and a foolish display of capital 
letters, than by earnestly seeking after and discovering the 
real truth of the Infinite God, and teaching it to the deluded 
souls of his bishopric! What could I reply to a man who 
had asserted the broadness of Darwin, and the narrowness 
of Huxley? “ Darwin,” said he, “is never narrow.” True 
he was not ; but Darwin, unlike the bishop, was wide enough 
to see the greatness and broadness of Huxley. No man was 
ever more admired by another than Huxley was by Darwin. 
In a letter to Huxley, Sept. 30th, 1871, Darwin even quoted 
approvingly what he had heard Hooker say of Huxley : 
“When I read Huxley, I feel quite infantile in intellect.” 
“ Darwin is never narrow,” said the bishop. Very true ; 
but it was Darwin who said, in 1876 : “ By such reflections 

as these, I gradually came to disbelieve in Christianity as a 
divine revelation. This disbelief crept over me at a very 
slow rate, but was at last complete.” “ Darwin,” said the 
bishop, “is never narrow.” Very true ; but it was Darwin 
who wrote to Lyell, “ I conceive you might crush a leaden- 
headed old Don, as a Don, with more safety, than touch the 
finger of that Corporate Animal, the Clergy.” “ Darwin,” 
said the bishop, “ is never narrow.” Very true ; but it was 
Darwin who wrote to Spencer, “ Every one with eyes to see 
and ears to hear, ought to bow their knees to you, and I for 
one do.” And yet this same Spencer to whom Darwin thus 
did homage, has done more to tear to fragments the gigantic 
fabric of superstition in which the bishop worships, than any 
living man. The bishop, it must be admitted, called a very 
damaging witness in the person of Charles Darwin; although 
he was one of the best men the world has ever known. 

In reply I said but little, except to call the bishop’s atten- 


414 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


tion to the dangerous admissions in his own letter, and to 
the fact that I could not expect him to appreciate my book 
as highly as he might, had he not been so many years away 
from his books. 

The bishop in his letter pleaded for the divinity of Christ, 
and the especial inspiration of the Scriptures ; and it was 
but natural : a bishop is a lord, though his reason is 
enslaved. In such a case it is to be expected that he 
would make a strong plea for those things on which his 
bodily comforts depend. If he should once admit his dis- 
belief in the superstitions on which his office is founded, he 
would be forced instantly to vacate his residence, and lose a 
substantial income. This a man like Bishop Dummkopf 
could not be expected willingly to do. 

Our correspondence did not tend to unite us in friend- 
ship, but rather to increase our mutual antipathy. It was 
more than sixteen months from this time, before we again 
penned a line to each other. 

Shortly after this correspondence with the bishop, certain 
citizens of the town called on me to ask if I would consent 
to deliver a lecture on the immortality of the soul. I con- 
sented ; and the preparation and immediate consequences of 
this lecture tended, in a measure, to focalize the forces at 
work in me ; at least, it determined me to execute what I 
had for some time been contemplating. At the delivery of 
this lecture, the house was crowded with intelligent people ; 
and the journals of the city spoke of it as being the ablest 
lecture ever delivered in the town. 

I had now for several years been of the opinion that the 
New Testament contains nothing essentially new, either in 
morals or religion. When a lady casts aside an old hat, and 
puts on a new one of different style, we might be led to sup- 
pose that she wears something essentially new ; but on a 
closer inspection, we perceive that what she wears, differs 


FLUMVILLE. 


415 


from what she has cast aside, not in substance, but only in 
the arrangement of materials. Thus, I thought, it is with 
the New Testament : Its teachings differ but little if any 
from those contained in other sacred books received as 
divine, and used as the authoritative sources of the other uni- 
versal religions. To the superficial reader the different bibles 
of the world appear as containing essentially different teach- 
ings; but the philosophical investigator finds the difference 
to consist of form or arrangement rather than of substance. 
So firmly was I convinced of this truth, that I determined 
to put the materials I had collected on this subject, and 
which had led me to think as I thought, into book form, with 
a view to its early publication. This work kept me very 
busy, all my spare hours, for nearly a year. Its result was 
the publication, about the first of September, 1888, of my 
work, “ God and Man.” This work was ably and favorably 
reviewed by many leading journals of the country from Boston 
to San Francisco. In a letter to me, dated March 8th, 1889, 
the critic of the St. Louis Republic said : “ As to ‘ God and 
Man,’ my opinion was and is that no more able and com- 
prehensive work on religious questions, has appeared in 
America. It shows much extended research, and is so free 
from bias that it is a library of information on the subject.” 

In this work I attempted to prove, and I think success- 
fully, — 

That religion is useful and natural and, in its essence, 
divine; 

The unity of religious essentials; 

That God’s revelation is universal and continuous, not 
local, special, nor discontinuous; 

That God is universally thought of as the Father of 
mankind; 

That humanity is brought into being not to be damned, 
but to be saved in God’s own ways which are as vari- 


416 the evolution of a life. 

ous as the peoples of the earth, and their conditions 
are various; 

That God is immanent in the universe, especially in 
intelligences; 

That our bible, as the other bibles of the world, is in the 
highest sense, but the history of the attempts of a 
people to express the impressions made on their mind 
by God immanent in nature; 

That in religion there is a divine element mixed with 
much that is human; 

That the theology of the age is full of superstition; 

That man may reasonably expect a future life; 

That future happiness, as present happiness, depends 
not on creed, profession, nor mediation, but on living 
an upright and manly life; 

That all the earth’s inhabitants may say, “ My Father, 
behold thy son.” 

That sin must be atoned for, either in this world or in 
the world to come; and that the sinner must and does 
pay the penalty of his own transgression; 

That heaven and hell are situated even in the conscious 
breast; 

That all mankind, civilized and uncivilized, are the chil- 
dren of the one Universal Father whose light and love 
they all receive. 

“ God and Man ” met with a good demand among my 
parishioners, and the citizens of the town in general; nor 
shall I cease to feel grateful to them for thus assisting me 
to cancel the indebtedness I had incurred from the publi- 
cation of the work. I may never again grasp their hands 
or see their faces; still the grateful feeling they awoke in 
my breast, shall go down with me to the chambers of the 
dead. 

The people of the parish appeared to thrive under the 


FLUMVILLE. 


417 


mental food I had for two years fed them with, and finan- 
cially the parish was in a flourishing condition, but they 
were not unconscious of the want of harmony existing 
between myself and the bishop. * In his visitations to my 
parish, he labored hard to counteract the influence I had 
been exerting toward establishing, in the hearts of the 
people, a rational faith; and as soon as he had departed, 
my first work was to hold up to ridicule the doctrines he 
had labored to inculcate. It was painful for me to receive 
his visitations, and no less painful for him to make them. 
What could I do under such circumstances? I could do 
what every honorable man would have done: I could 
resign. The people I loved were torn hither and thither, 
their priest teaching them one thing, and their bishop 
teaching them another. They could not cast him off with- 
out leaving the church to which they belonged. Should I 
seek to draw them away from the church of their child- 
hood ? Should I take the responsibility of making them 
happier under any form of worship which I might estab- 
lish ? Nay, I would not. I had taught them the truth, but 
it could not be expected that, in so short a time, they could 
fully appreciate the beauty of reason, or clearly discern the 
loathesome aspect of the monster Superstition. Kind to me 
and mine as they had been, and dear as they were to my 
soul, the best their poor priest could do for them, would be 
to remove the cause of disquietude, and this I determined 
to do. The thought was painful to me. No man ever had 
a kinder warden than was Mr. Gott, and the vestry was 
composed of gentlemen who had been faithful in the dis- 
charge of all their obligations. The ladies of the parish 
were good workers, and had not been unmindful of my 
three little motherless lambs. The kindness of one lady, 
Mrs. Mary McPherson, was exceeding. Not only did she 
pay twice as much as she should for the support of the par- 
27 


418 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


ish, but for the two and quarter years I was in Flumville, 
she never failed to supply my table on Sundays with an 
abundance of ice-cream and cake. May God reward her 
for her goodness to me. But painful as it was to sever the 
cords which bound priest and people together, for the sake 
of their happiness, and my own peace of mind, I determined 
to do so. I, therefore, offered my resignation, to take 
effect the first of September; and after three or four weeks 
discussion, the vestry concluded that it was wise to accept 
it, considering the strained relations existing between me 
and the bishop. 

At the time of accepting my resignation, the vestry 
passed a resolution offering me the free use of the rectory 
while I should be in the city, and they without a minister; 
and also requesting me to conduct the services of the 
church as often as I could, while in the city, they being 
without a regular pastor. 

I preached for the people, the last time, on the first Sun- 
day of September, 1888. As I did so, my mind was full, 
and my heart was breaking. “ This,” I thought, “ is the 
last. No more shall I preach in the church of my birth, 
no more shall I hear the solemn tones of the pealing organ, 
as it rolls its cadences down the aisles; no more shall I hear 
these solemn chants, or repeat with my people this beautiful 
liturgy. God in his own ways has brought me to the place 
where I must decide between reason and superstition.” As 
I stood before the people, I felt I could have died for them, 
if only I could have freed them from the baneful power of su- 
perstition.; but they little knew my feelings. Calm and delib- 
erate, as I apparently was, within there was a wild tempest 
raging, tearing up the great-deep of my being, and rolling 
over me as the mad waves of the ocean over the ill-fated 
ship. “Yes,” I thought, “I look into your faces for the 
last time. I go forth alone, yet not alone for God shall be 


FLUMVILLE. 


419 


with me, on whom my soul relies, He can not forsake me, 
broken and bruised as I am. Fare ye well, kind friends; 
you have been good to me; but the voice of him who pleads 
with you, shall plead with you no more. I go forth lean- 
ing on the arm of Him who created me, and with an abid- 
ing prayer in my afflicted heart for you, — that after the 
troubles of this painful life are ended, we may see one 
another again, raised to higher heights of being, filled with 
a much diviner knowledge, freed from all suffering and sin, 
to be forever in that glorious state of existence, where 
bishops and priests enter not, without leaving behind them 
their superstition, and where the light of reason forever 
shines; where souls shall dwell in harmony, and where death 
.shall be unknown.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN— I AM FREE. 

For more than seven months after my resignation, I 
endured the utmost mental distress. My nature appeared 
to be undergoing as it were the throes of parturition, in its 
efforts to burst the barriers which confined me, ai\d bring 
me forth to the light. 

While in this mental agony, I received a visit from 
Reason. “ I am sorry,” he said, “ to find you in so great 
distress of mind; but pain and pleasure are very near 
related. The highest enjoyment is ever preceded by the 
acutest pain. The mother drains her cup of pain, before 
she tastes her cup of bliss. To him who is born and edu- 
cated in superstition, it must be said to-day as of old, ‘Ye 
must be born again.’ You must break through the barriers 
which confine you, and drop the load of superstition which 
crushes you. Either enjoy the benefits of a child of Super- 
stition, by a faithful performance of those duties which the 
dark monster imposes on you, or as a true child of Nature, 
follow the dictates of universal reason, leaving the conse- 
quences with God. This is undoubtedly hard for you to 
do. In the occupation you follow, you are a member of a 
powerful corporation actuated by common interests; and 
while you are true to those interests, you can not fail to get 
bread to eat, and clothing to wear. On the other hand, 
should you refuse to uphold those interests, that ‘ Corporate 
Animal ’ will cut you off from its fleshly self, and if possible 
trample you under its cloven feet, and leave your mangled 
remains as food to the vultures. But what then ? Does 


420 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 


421 


life consist of food and raiment ? Is this dark and painful 
existence the end of all activity ? The highest duty of a 
true man, is first of all to be true to himself — to his own 
convictions of right, as impressed on him by the Infinite 
Mind urging him onward to a more exalted life. You must 
choose between reason and superstition: ‘you can not 
serve God and mammon.’ Let your decision be deter- 
mined by motives of personal interests, and be a follower of 
mammon; or let your decision be determined by your con- 
sciousness of duty, and be a follower of righteousness and 
God. You are not the one to enjoy deceiving or being de- 
ceived. A short time ago, you remember, you were visited 
by three clergymen who, for more than an hour, argued in 
favor of the deity of Christ, and the literal inspiration of 
the Scriptures, and asserted the doctrine that the man who 
rejects the deity of Christ, must be eternally damned. You 
remember it was but a few days after this, when one of 
these same clergymen wrote you a letter, confessing his 
disbelief in the deity of Christ, and in the exclusive inspira- 
tion of the Scriptures, at the same time praying you to keep 
to yourself this confession, on the ground that he would 
suffer, should it become known. There are very many 
thousands who would readily acknowlege their disbelief, 
were they not afraid of the consequences; but I say unto 
you again, ‘Ye can not serve two masters, — ye can not 
serve God and mammon.’ I know there is a superstitious 
feeling which makes you hesitate to leave the church in 
which you were born; but the church should receive the 
obedience of the reasonable man, not in proportion to its 
assumptions and claims, but in proportion to the amount of 
unquestionable truth it possesses. Now, that which the 
church declares is the most exact symbol of its faith, is the 
Nicene Creed; and it is to this creed that it professes 
authority for demanding the obedience of the whole world. 


422 the evolution of a life. 

Now, it is evident that the reasonableness of this demand, 
must depend on two things: 

“i: On the reasonableness of the creed it would im- 
pose; 

“ 2: On the power of the church to discriminate be- 
tween truth and error. 

“ When we come to the examination of the Nicene Creed, 
the great symbol of orthodoxy, we find that only the first 
clause, which refers exclusively to God the Father, has ever 
received, or does receive, universal assent. It will be ad- 
mitted that if the balance of this creed be believed at all, it 
must be by Christians exclusively. A slight examination of 
the origin and growth of this creed, will better enable us to 
understand its value as a symbol of faith. 

The original Nicene Creed was formulated at Nice, A. D. 
325, by three hundred and eighteen bishops convened at the 
summons of the Emperor Constantine. In this council 
there were not less than three antagonistic parties, — the 
homoousian, the homoiousian, and the Origenian. The ho- 
moousian, which to-day represents the orthodox party, in 
this council was in a decided minority The majority of the 
bishops headed by Eusebius of Caesarea, followed the lead 
of Origen who represented the liberal party, while not a few 
were homoiousians, or followers of Arius, who represented 
the more radical party. The result of this council was a 
victory for the homoousians. This victory was brought 
about through the influence of the presiding emperor, the 
oratory of Athanasius, and the fear, on the part of many, of 
deposition, or of giving offence to the emperor. Only three 
were brave enough to refuse subscription to this creed of 
Nice, — Arius, Theonas, and Secundus; and these, for their re- 
fusal, were exiled into Illyria. 

“Thus the Nicene Creed is a child of force, political in- 
fluence, and oratorical persuasion. 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 


423 


“ But even this creed was not unreasonable enough to sat- 
isfy the ghostly minds of the one hundred and fifty bishops 
who formed the Second General Council of Constantinople. 
This council, which convened A. D. 381, both added to, and 
took from, the Nicene Creed. The words, ‘ God of God,' 
they took out of the Creed; and they added the formula 
consisting of the words, ‘ the Lord and Giver of Life, Who 
proceedeth from the Father, Who with the Father and the 
Son together is worshipped and glorified.’ These words 
were added to show the equality of the Holy Ghost with 
the Father and the Son. 

“ But not even this creed of Constantinople was so re- 
pugnant to reason as that which you confess, and call the 
Nicene Creed. For neither the Nicene nor the Constantino- 
politan asserted the procession of the Holy Ghost from the 
Son. This second addition to the genuine Nicene Creed is 
uncertain in origin; but its first undisputed appearance is in 
the creed of the Third Council of Toledo, A. D. 589. It is 
this addition to the Creed of Constantinople, thus made by 
a provincial and obscure council, which caused, in 1054, the 
great schism between the Eastern and Western Churches, 
and fills them to-day with mutual bitterness; and it is 
through the confession of this addition, called the ‘ filioque 
clause,’ that the Eastern Church charges the Western with 
heresy. So the creed you confess should be called the creed 
of the ghostly -fathers who assembled at Toledo, A. D. 589. 
It is certainly not the genuine Nicene Creed; it certainly is 
not the genuine Constantinopolitan; and certainly its first 
undisputed confession was made by the Council of Toledo 
in 589. Is it possible that such a creed as you confess, 
should be stamped with the seal of eternal truth ! The fact 
that it was the result of long-continued and most bitter 
strife, beginning in the very earliest ages of the church, and 
ending as we have said above, is most conclusive proof of 


424 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

the lack in those days of Christian unanimity; and the fact 
of the existence to-day of Unitarianism, and other unortho- 
dox faiths, is the most conclusive proof of existing lack of 
Christian unanimity. So then, the creed which you profess, 
with the exception of that part which refers exclusively to 
God the Father, not only does not receive the assent of 
humanity in general, but not even that of the general 
Christian church. As the controversies through which this 
creed has passed, is conclusive proof that, at its different 
stages, it was not in general regarded as a reasonable docu- 
ment; so is its present contents such as no reasonable man 
can give hearty assent to. 

“ The church being thus unable to expect the obedience 
of the reasonable man, on the ground of the confession of 
faith which she offers him, has she the right to expect his obe- 
dience, on the ground of her reliability as a judge of the 
truth ? That she has not this right, is sufficiently evident 
from the contradictory judgments of the different commun- 
ions which form the Christian church. The Eastern Church 
charges the Western with the guilt of schism and heresy, 
and the Western Church charges the Eastern with the guilt 
of schism. The Roman Church charges the whole Angli- 
can Communion with the guilt of schism, and denies the 
validity of its orders; and the Anglican Communion charges 
the Roman Church with corruption and heresy, and affirms 
that it alone is the cause of the disrupted and schismatic 
state of the Christian church in general; and it also charges 
the various Protestant bodies with schism, or heresy, or 
both. Thus there is not a Christian body whose judgment 
is unreservedly received by another. 

“ The treatment the church has given the great scientists 
of the world, is well known to every reader of history. It 
was the church which could accuse of magic and heresy the 
most learned man of the Middle Ages, Roger Bacon, and 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 425 

keep him shut up within prison walls, for the most of his 
life. It was the church which, in 1615, could summon 
Galileo before the bar of the Inquisition, and force him to 
renounce truths that are now generally accepted ; it was the 
church which, in 1633, could cite the same philosopher, now 
aged and infirm, before the same cruel Inquisition, and 
through its agency, utter the following decree : 

“ ‘ By the desire of His Holiness and of the most eminent 
Lord Cardinals of this supreme and universal Inquisition, 
the two propositions of the stability of the sun and the 
motion of the earth, were qualified by the theological quali- 
fiers as follows : 

“ * 1 : The proposition that the sun is the centre of the 
world, and immoveable from its place, is absurd, philosoph- 
ically false, and formally heretical ; because it is expressly 
contrary to Holy Scripture. 

“ ‘ 2: The proposition that the earth is not the centre of 
the world, nor immoveable ; but that it moves and also with 
a diurnal motion, is absurd, philosophically false, and the- 
ologically considered, at least erroneous. 

“ ‘ We decree that the book of the dialogues of Galileo 
Galilei, be prohibited by edict; we condemn you to the prison 
of this office during our pleasure ; we order you for the next 
three years to recite once a week the seven penitential 
psalms.’ 

“ And it was the church which, then and there, could 
wring from the old and withered philosopher the following 
confession, though it perjured him in the eyes of the world: 

“‘With a sincere heart and unfeigned faith I abjure, 
curse, and detest, the said errors and heresies (viz., that the 
earth moves, etc.) I swear that I will never in future say or 
assert anything verbally, or in writing, which may give rise 
to a similar suspicion against me. 


426 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


“ ‘ I Galileo Galilei have abjured as above with my own 
hand.’ 

“ It was the church which, on the conclusion of this trial, 
could conduct the terrified old man from his place of judg- 
ment to the prison of the Inquisition, and keep him virtually 
a prisoner the remainder of his life. It was the church 
which could bury the broken-hearted philosopher’s body in 
an obscure corner of the grave-yard, and refuse his friends 
permission to erect a monument over his grave. 

“It is safe to say that with the known facts of history before 
us, no reasonable man can admit that the church should be 
obeyed, on the plea of the reliability of her judgment ; for 
these facts unquestionably prove that no judge ever sat on a 
bench, whose judgment was more fraught with error than the 
judgment of the Christian church has been. 

“ I say again, ‘Ye can not serve two masters, ye can not 
serve God and mammon.’ If you would be a follower of 
righteousness and God, you must break through the barriers 
which confine you, and speak the thoughts of your soul, as 
impressed on you by the God of nature, revealing himself 
in every movement of the cosmos. He who would be true to 
God and man, must first of all be true to himself. I must 
leave you now. My parting word is : do what in your soul 
you believe to be right, and leave the consequences with 
God.” 

“ One question, O Reason, before you leave. If during the 
last eighteen years you have had such influence over me, 
why during the last eighteen hundred have you not had 
more over the church ? Surely you are not unknown to the 
different parts of it! ” 

“ It is true I am not an entire stranger to the church ; 
but my presence in it is almost as unwilling, as unwillingly 
received. At times it apparently receives my instructions ; 
but it immediately proceeds to distort and change them to 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 


427 


suit its own desires and ends. In a few instances I have 
found ready minds, and willing hearts, and the seed I have 
sown in them, have brought forth abundantly ; but even in 
such cases they are generally cut down by the scythes of the 
bishops, before they have yielded a tithe of what they might 
have produced. Ever since the order of priests and medi- 
cine-men has been established, you can with as much safety 
touch the scorpion’s tail, as the interests of a bishop. They 
are so deeply pledged, and their interests are so wholly de- 
pendent on the dogmas they inculcate, that they strive as 
zealously to secure their safety as the heathen to secure the 
safety of his penates, or the drowning man to get air to 
breathe. Dogma and Superstition are the sovereign eccle- 
siastical powers ; Reason is offered in the church only a 
subordinate position, and such I can not accept. Bacon 
expresses a partial truth when he says : ‘ If I proceed to 

treat of theology, I shall step out of the bark of human 
reason, and enter the ship of the church. Neither will the 
stars of philosophy, which have hitherto so nobly shone on 
us, any longer give us their light.’ There is a fallacy, how- 
ever, in this saying of Bacon ; for however dark the heavens 
over the head of the average theologian, theology can only 
flourish when the stars of philosophy shine most brightly on 
it. Theology is without prejudice or sordid interest, theo- 
logians are prompted by both. 

“ I have answered your question. You are an apt pupil, 
yet I must leave you. As Kreeshna said to Arjoon, so say 
I unto thee: ‘ Let the motive be in the deed, and not in the 
event. Be free from duplicity, and stand firm in the path 
of truth. Be not one whose motive for action is the hope 
of reward. Let not thy life be spent in inactivity. Per- 
form thy duly, and abandon all thoughts of the conse- 
quence.’ ” 

“ With all the pain you have given me, O Reason, I can 


428 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

not be other than thankful to you for what you have done 
for me. You have opened my eyes to see in a finer light 
the God of love; and my ears to hear more harmonious and 
heavenly sounds than the dissonant clangors of supersti- 
tion. I intend to follow your advice: I will break through 
the barriers which confine me, and drop the load of super- 
stition which crushes me, and leave the consequences with 
my God.” 

When I came to execute my determination, I found it so 
unutterably painful as to surpass all powers of description. 
What was I going to do ! My action would separate me 
from the church of my birth, and from the friends I so 
dearly loved. Even those of my own blood, called after 
the name of my father, would censure and upbraid me, and 
even accuse me of sin in doing the act I contemplated. 
The bible which had long since ceased to be thought of by 
the learned theologians of Germany, as a literally inspired 
book, was regarded by those most dear to me, as if it were 
the autographic work of the infinite God. Sure as I was 
that a much better bible than ours could be made by sift- 
ing the precious wheat out of the abundance of chaff con- 
tained in the many different bibles of the world; yet I felt 
convinced those dearest to my soul would cry aloud, 1 thou 
reprobate ! ’ So great was my suffering that I determined 
to strain my sense of duty, almost to the point of breaking 
it, by writing my bishop the following letter: 

“ 2823 Walnut Street, Popetown, Jackson, ) 

April ist, 1889. j 

“To the Right Rev. W. Y. Dummkopf, 2727 Chestnut 

Street, Popetown, Jackson. 

“ Dear Sir, — I address you this letter believing it a 
duty! owe no less to myself than to you. 

“ I was admitted to the diaconate in the autumn of 
1877, and ordained to the priesthood in the spring of 1879. 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 429 

With the exception of two and half years spent in the study 
of the law, I was unremittingly engaged in the work of the 
ministry up to the third of September last. 

“ I met you, I believe, last November. At that time, 
being asked by you what I was going to do, I replied that 
I should confine myself to the publication of my book till 
April or May; after which, if it were agreeable to the dio- 
cese, I should be ready for active work. That time has 
almost arrived; and it is because of this I address you. 

“ I do, as you know, belong to the extreme wing of the 
Broad-church party. My interpretation of Scripture and 
ritual is conducted on rationalistic grounds that I may 
avoid blaspheming Him whom I have always worshipped. 
In other words, instead of subjecting reason to the teach- 
ings of alleged revelation or of accepted dogmas, I insist 
most strenuously at all times on subjecting all teachings 
whatever to the decision of the reason, whether such teachings 
be that of alleged revelation, tradition, or ritual practice. 
I do this that I may be one with science, and one with 
myself. He who does not this, is not one with science; nor 
is he any more one with himself. 

“I do not believe for an instant in a complete, local, 
exclusive, or infallible revelation; I do believe, on the 
other hand, that God has revealed himself through various 
channels of the reason to humanity, and that all local revel- 
ations are but parts of the one grand whole; and that while 
their differences may be, and probably are, useful, as being 
the natural outcome of the minds who profess such differ- 
ences, they are, on the other hand, no essential part of true 
or saving faith in God. 

“ I love the Episcopal Church as the church of my 
birth, her beautiful ritual (rationally understood), and her 
solemn and stately worship. 

“ I am as fully convinced that the usual method of 


43 ° 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


Scripture interpretation is -false, as I am of my own exist- 
ence; and I am equally convinced that the rational method 
is true. In this belief I am not alone, rather am I in the 
company of the brightest minds of all ages before and after 
Christ. Every distinguishing doctrine of the church has 
passed through seas of blood; and frequently a belief has 
been enthroned against the reason by acquiescence through 
fear of further opposition, — for few are they who will not 
yield to the threats of excommunication, exile, social ostra- 
cism, or death. 

“ I have no desire to cast off my ministerial work. If 
you think there is work for me in your diocese, I am ready 
to engage in it. If you think, on the other hand, there is 
none to be had in your diocese for a man with principles so 
broad as those I profess, then, it seems to me, I must seek 
work of some kind elsewhere. 

“ I have written you confidingly and candidly; and I 
ask of you an equally open and candid answer. 

“ Very respectfully, 

“ Henry Truro Bray.” 

To this letter I received the following reply: 

“ Ferguson, Jackson, April 5th, 1889. 

“ Rev. Henry Truro Bray, LL. D., Popetown, Jackson. 

“My dear Dr. Bray, — Yours of the 1st inst. is received. 

“ I thank you for writing me so frankly and for asking of 
me a candid answer. 

“ Candidly, therefore, I do not think that any place will 
open in this diocese for usefulness for you in discharge of 
your duties as a clergyman, while you hold your present 
opinions. Faithfully yours, W. V. Dummkopf.” 

After fifteen days of indescribable agony, I resolved to 
strive no longer with myself against my convictions of duty, 
but to break the bonds that bound me, and lay my bur- 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 


431 


dens down. This I did by writing the bishop the follow- 
ing letter: 

“ 2823 Walnut Street, Popetown, Jackson, ) 

April 20th, 1889. ) 

“To W. V. Dummkopf, D. D., Bishop of Jackson. 

“Right Rev. Sir, — I presume your view of the matter, 
judged from an evangelical standpoint (a standpoint which 
I utterly abhor and detest), is the correct one. 

“ On Nov. 23rd, 1887, you wrote me objecting to certain 
rationalistic views expressed in my book. I answered your 
letter, stating that my book was written in my blood; that 
death itself would be preferred to retraction. 

“ For ten years have I been a priest in the Episcopal 
Church, and during that time I have labored unremittingly 
to raise myself and my hearers to a higher and nobler life. 
That I have never been slow to spend my energies for the 
good of others, thousands stand ready to testify. As during 
the rest of my life, so during my priesthood, have I 
lived a sincere life. I can not dissemble, I can not live a 
double life. 

“ It is with much pain that I take the action I now take; 
but after years of consideration, I am fully persuaded that I 
owe it to the world and most of all to myself. 

“ The extreme Broad Church has but little representation 
in the United States; and the principles of my book, ‘God 
and Man,’ will bring me no sympathy from any other party 
in the Episcopal Church. It is far from a pleasure to me to 
dissever all my relations with that church, for I have re- 
ceived much loving-kindness therein; and I can never forget 
to my dying day the dear ones to whom I have ministered. 
Even in this painful letter, the saddest of my life, I pray for 
them, wish them well, and hope to meet them, not again in 
the Episcopal Church, but in a better land, where none shall 
be forced to choose between yielding up the most sacred 


43 2 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


things of his life, or doing violence to reason and known 
facts. My enemies I wish well. If after this painful life be 
ended, there be a better state for humanity, our animosities 
may be changed to friendship. 

“ i : I can not believe for an instant in a special 
creation for mankind. 

“2: I do not accept the story of the fall of man. 

“3: I do not for an instant believe in the doctrine of 
vicarious atonement. 

“ 4: I do not believe in eternal punishment, nor in a 
fixed state after death. 

‘‘5: I do not for a moment believe that Christians 
possess an exclusively divine revelation, or that their Scrip- 
tures are perfect, or complete. 

“6: I do not believe in a literal resurrection of the 

dead. 

“7: I protest against making belief in the deity of 
Christ an essential part of faith. 

“8: I believe that all mankind are alike dear to God, 
alike cared for, alike provided with means necessary for 
their good. I believe in a continuous and universal revela- 
tion of God to all mankind. I have a reasonable, a well 
grounded, hope in the immortality of the soul. I believe 
that for every wrong committed we must all pay the pen- 
alty, must make our own atonement, either in this world or 
in the world that is to come. I believe that the present age 
witnesses a higher revelation of God than any preceding age. 
This is the substance of my faith, and this is clearly shown, 
and the most substantial reasons given for it, in my work, 
‘ God and Man.’ 

“ Because of my inability to recede from what I 
have in that book stated; because I have not even the 
shadow of a doubt that so-called orthodoxy is contrary to 
reason, if not blasphemous; because I believe with all my 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN. 


433 


soul what 1 have written; because I feel I owe it to the age 
I live in, to my fellow-creatures, to myself, to my God, to 
truth, and to those who are striving as myself to dispel the 
darkness of superstition, and let the light of God, of reason, 
shine in, — I am compelled to state that I can not again as- 
sume any ministerial duties in the Episcopal Church. 
Therefore, in accordance with Title II, Canon V, Section i 
of Digest, I ask deposition from the ministry of the Pro- 
testant Episcopal Church. 

“ Where I shall serve the cause of humanity, I know not; 
but this I doubt not, that He w r ho brought me into being, 
and hath hitherto preserved me, will provide a way. Adieu. 

“ Respectfully, Henry Truro Bray.” 

To this letter I received the following reply from the 
bishop: 

“ Popetown, Jackson, April 2oth, 1889. 
“Rev. Henry Truro Bray, LL.D., Popetown, Jackson. 

“Rev. and dear Sir: — Yours of even date is received, 
embodying your decision that you can not again assume 
any ministerial duties in the Episcopal Church, and re- 
questing deposition. 

“ I can not but thank you for your honest and manly 
letter. 

“ I shall take occasion to pronounce and record the 
deposition in St. George’s Church, next Tuesday, about 
noon, should you be desirous of deputing any one to bear 
witness. The canonical addition, ‘ for reasons not affecting 
his moral character,’ will be inserted in the pronouncement 
and the record; and upon a desire expressed by you, I 
shall take pleasure in forwarding you a certificate embody- 
ing these words. Faithfully yours, 

“ W. V. Dummkopf, bishop of Jackson.” 

To this letter I sent the following reply: 

28 


434 THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 

“ 2823 Walnut Street, Popetown, Jackson, ) 

April 22ND, 1889. f 

“To W. V. Dummkopf, D. D., Bishop of Jackson. 

“Right Rev. Sir, — • Yours of the 20th instant is now 
received. 

“ I have never needed any -grace from the diocese of 
Jackson to possess or obtain a good character. That I 
have always had; that I always expect to possess. If by 
the power of temptation I could lose that character, then 
I should have lost it by my coming into the diocese of 
Jackson — a diocese that I wish with my whole, soul I had 
never seen. Yet doubt I not that all will be well; if not 
now, what of that? .The Time is coming, is even now at 
the door, when the truth will prevail. 

“I presume it would be but proper, it might be desira- 
ble, that you should send me the certificate . you speak of, 
certifying to my moral character. 

“ I may conclude by saying, if you shall feel as satisfied 
in pronouncing the deposition as I in receiving it, the feel- 
ings of neither will be hurt. 

“ I am, dear sir, very truly yours, 

-“ Henry Truro Bray.” 

On April 23rd,! received the following certificate: 

“Popetown, Jackson, April 23RD, 1889. 
“Henry Truro Bray, LL.D., Popetown, Jackson. 

“Dear Sir, — A little before noon this day in St. 
George’s Church, in the presence of Rev. A. O. ITypocrypsis 
and Rev. G. L. Narlich, presbyters, and divers other indi- 
viduals, I did pronounce and record in accordance with the 
provisions of Canon V, Title II, of the digest, the deposi- 
tion of yourself from the ministry of this church. 

“ The pronouncement and record certify that, ‘ This 
deposition is for causes not affecting the moral character of 
the one deposed, and follows upon the receipt of his renunci- 


THE BARRIERS ARE BROKEN 


435 


ation of the ministry declared in writing, accompanying his 
request to be deposed.’ 

“ Respectfully yours, 

“ W. V. Dummkopf, bishop of Jackson.” 

To this I sent the •following reply: 

“2823 Walnut Street, Popetown, Jackson, ) 

April 24TH, 1889.) 

“To W. V. Dummkopf, D. D. 

“ Dear Sir,- — ..I am in receipt of the certificate. It is as 
we both wished. Respectfully, 

“ Henry Truro Bray.” 

It was done. The barriers were broken down, and I 
felt a new birth; my soul inhaled the breath of heaven. 
My shackles were loosened; and as the chains so strongly 
wrought by the powerful arm of priestcraft, were snapped 
. asunder, I felt as never before the . meaning of the cry, 
“ Give me liberty or death.” • 

Now I could speak my thoughts— the thoughts of an 
earnest heart beating for union with God, and with good- 
will toward mankind, and have no fear of those rolling and 
bloody eyes, and that lolling tongue, of the many-headed 
monster, Superstition. Now I could follow after righteous- 
ness, and hear and obey the whisperings of the Infinite 
Soul as He revealed himself in the onward movement of 
the age. 

Thee, thou Universal Spirit, will I adore. Thou only 
art holy, and from Thee alone, as from a bottomless and 
boundless ocean, does eternal truth forever flow. Oh, as 
that stream of virtue flows freely from thy adorable Self, 
may I drink forever; and as I drink, may my desire for 
Thee forever increase. O Thou unapproachable and most 
glorious Deity, transcendently holy and good, who changest 
not, who fillest the boundless depths of space, and movest 
the whole with thy immanent Spirit, to whom the whole and 
every part are dear; Thou who art well pleased with right- 


436 


THE EVOLUTION OF A LIFE. 


eousness, and seekest to restore the erring, — move, .O 
righteous Being, the tremulous soul of man, with thy pure . 
breath of life. Thou who are decked with majesty, whose 
diadem is the boundless universe, show thy glory, to every 
longing eye; give quiet to the troubled spirit, and comfort 
to the broken-hearted; and whether from the Red -man’s 
wigwam or Parsee fire, from Indian temple or Moham- 
medan shrine, from the disciples ■ of Confucius or the fol- 
lowers of Jesus, — O hear the cry of him who calls for light 
and truth. 

Pass me not by, O God. As Thou art Father of the 
whole, and all are dear to Thee, so let me be thy child. O 
my God, I look to Thee, I trust in Thee. Strengthen my 
mind, purify my heart, sanctify my soul, and make me able 
to feel thy influence, and ready to obey thy voice; and let 
me live in Thee, that when my life thus spent is over, I 
still may rest in hope. 

Go forth, ye tear- wrought pages, take wings, thou love-wrought book. 

Go, tell the Christian savage: God hath no bloody look. 

Say to the mitred bishop, to sacrificing priest: 

Leave Superstition’s banquet for Reason’s royal feast. 

She hath no votive Victim, no chalice for his blood; 

Nor blood-besprinkled altar, nor martyred flesh for food: 

She hath no angry Father, no sacrificial Son; 

Her God is good forever, she knows He favors none. 

Go to our ice. girt neighbor, where lofty pines do wave, 

Where Earth is great with mineral, and rich in Sunshine’s grave; 

Speak out to ancient China, to India, Afric’s land. 

To Europe blessed with science: ye all are Holy Land. 

Go to the sun-burnt millions, where golden grain e’er shines, 

And to their sallow brethren pent up in deep, dark mines; 

To crowded cities peopled with Want and cold Neglect, 

And bid them all take courage, for all are God’s elect. 

Say to the noble-hearted, when crushed with toil and pain: 

Be brave, for God, my brother, and duty still remain. — (H. T. B.) 


fi D 8 4 









* . 










* 


















I 

i • 








► 

















S 




ft 


































« 





• / 









» 
















































u . • 

$ • . . - •/* 



jO v\ 

o o * tt. *, 

S V . . °-J* * • » • * A 0 *%. * • • ’ ' - ( 

V CV .9* »’*»- *> ,V S 

♦ <£■'>, °mw : ■‘•»s* 0 <?'% 

^ * . . ** *0^ o. *® • * * A <^ ** . . « ’ *&* 

V. „ v * W * V. v - 






o y 

o «0 <7\ 




.. ^ vgan'; <6°^ 

v'- °o 

- ’ " * Smm 4? , • i M'. * . V S . Lvw'» V 



* .*, 


r ^ 



V^**' vA * 

* * P °.} ■4?’' 6 « " •' ** 

k Jtf!//^^ •* a" 





** *P r > „ 

r ^ v • * 

» rp, -o < 

-**Cr . • 

^ *r " v ^V \ 0 *° t#0 ^ %< 

& **V\W/k 0 ^ ^ *VRflfc£* ^ aV *?* 51**. ^ 

<5* • o 



<£*, O -, 

4* ■ * _ _ . 

O, 'o . k * /V 

% °0 ' A 4 .“ ° * 

’; -0/ • 

o < 0 r/\ * * 

' ^ * <#>- * 

* £ ^ 


<*> *; 





v # ** 

, - V’V • 
;* '^4? . ^ o 




; * i 

* ** V *J 



,4' . '♦•To* A o, 

V .♦IX.'* cx .<5* . »• 

^ A V •jSjHZg* ^ «A * 

Vv ifSHlIk' J» V • 

C^> ^ o • aV**Ja * 

ay °» ^^4* 4/ *^e» V\5K^ * 

O ' 0 O m k * *<\ S- * > *7**tr*f * % & 



, C* » 

\v • 

<£* A v * • vV 

0 << V © 


* ° 



« • © 


*y & 



<S\ *»*■*• ^ O ‘ohO* <V “r*, 

^ ^ # # / (J% 0^ f • o 

t *o ^ ^ ^ 


*$* ' 
v^ v • 


s*% • 


. O 
« 
o 

_ ^ «; 

<u ><r.y ,<y 

b 0 » O - . <$>^ ,U». ^ 

■ :. v c° ♦jijj^L* j , 




°. - „ . 

-O . . * -A 

*/&- 0 0 * 0 * *<Pa 

O v_ 

^ 4-V 


^••\/ v^V \'^-'\/ %■< 

V ^ \ A *ml£°> U # •‘jfifc*- ^ 


o in 


J DOBBS BROS. 

LIBRAMV BINOINQ 


V>£> 

S’ * AlV'^a - 

,, ^-,* 4 X ^f. • 

bun 81 V**^ 

•ST. AUGUSTINE 

■*£ i 




w 



o 

• ^ ^ *0 

^~~ r ■» <a. r * 

v ^ ^TTT* a0 v •«.*- v> 

-$ y o 0 ^® ♦ (r • *■ 1 • ♦ a v o 0 *» 1 

I ^ V C O .1^ 

; 


32084 0 



v*0^ 

X o, 



4ilaV^ 









